Into The Mystic
by Mayday Chambers
Summary: COMPLETE FULL LENGTH NOVEL! Sam struggles to come to terms with Coach's death. In a meeting with his attorney, Sam is shocked to learn that his best friend has made one last request - for Sam and his ex-wife, Diane, to scatter his ashes in Mediterranean waters. Will Coach's final wish give birth to a second chance at love? AU, because it's so much more fun!
1. Chapter 1

**A man in mourning, Sam Malone struggles to come to terms with the loss of his father figure, Ernie "Coach" Pantusso, to an aggressive form of cancer. In a meeting with their attorney, Sam is shocked to learn that his best friend has made one last request: to have Sam and his ex-wife scatter his ashes in the Mediterranean waters off the island of Rhodes. Memories rush to the surface, transporting Sam back to idyllic days spent on Greece's dazzling beaches with the only woman he ever truly loved.**

 **Sam hasn't seen or spoken with his ex-wife, Diane Chambers, in twenty years. He has no idea she's living a quiet life in upstate New York, teaching interior design at prestigious Cornell (and conveniently engaged to the university's president, Les Meredith). Will the news of Coach's death bring them back together? Or has the passage of time been unable to heal their collective wounds?**

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a 3rd person narrative and shifts perspective between the main characters. I am flying without a beta, so be aware that this is not a polished piece of fiction. I'm not afraid to tear apart the Cheers Universe and rearrange all the pieces. While you'll no doubt recognize many elements from the TV series, I do take quite a bit of licence to create entirely new worlds for Sam and Diane while retaining the true essence of their characters. Also, my stories focus solely on relationships because for me, that was the most satisfying element of the series. Love scenes? Yes! Bar hi-jink? Not so much.**

 **Reader feedback is invaluable and fuels the fire to continue writing. I hope you'll consider sharing a comment or two along the way.**

 **Happy Reading!**

 **#**

His hand brushed against her bare arm and instantly his fingertips came alive. He half expected her to pull away but she didn't. She was part angel, part mirage, with a halo of pink light coloring the air around her. He'd searched for her for so long, thankful now that they'd arrived at this place. This dark place where they seemed to drift into one another. After locking on her eyes with a soft smile, he continued to explore the contours of her body. Her elbow. Her neck. The tiny mole hiding behind her left ear. She didn't try to stop his advance, the lightness of his fingers felt warm. Familiar. Safe. No, it wasn't until the waves crept up to the edge of the bed, turning the silky sheets between them into a cold, soggy net that she began to retreat. She didn't say a word as the bed began to sink into the blue-black abyss but calmly motioned for him to follow, swimming in silent strokes toward a distant shore.

He followed her, barely able to keep his eyes focused above the waves. Gasping for breath, he struggled as sheets of water broke like panes of glass over his head. The salt stung his eyes and he felt at any moment his tired arms and legs would simply disconnect, leaving him to drown as nothing but a stump of a man. Thankfully the darkness overhead was now fading, replaced with brighter, kinder skies. He frantically scanned the water. One minute she was in sight, just a few strokes ahead. The next, she was gone. He gulped in the air, pulling it into his lungs with great, thirsty force. Determined not to let her slip away again, he fought the surging current.

Without warning everything stopped. They were safe, side by side on the sand. Bright sunlight had drowned out the darkness completely and he had to squint to see her fully. Somehow he'd conquered the monster waves. Feeling somewhat smug at this victory, he reached out for her again, looking for the reward that only her lips could offer. With an impish grin, she pushed his hand away and ran down the beach, her white cotton skirt catching the wind like a sail. She was beautiful, the light falling perfectly on her skin. He watched her for several minutes. When the trail of footprints between them started to wash away, he realized the threat was not over. His heart began to pound once more as the tide grew stronger. Seconds were becoming minutes and minutes were transforming into hours, days. Farther and farther away she ran. She was now just a tiny dot on the horizon, her golden hair whipping around her face. _Go to her!_ he willed himself, but the sand gripped him. He tried to pull himself up, but the beach began to consume him.

"Diane! Diane!" he called out as the ocean swallowed both his words and his body.

"Sam, I'm so sorry to wake you, but-" The hospice care worker gently nudged his arm, ending his dream.

The fuzzy, disconnected realm of sleep dissolved and he was now fully awake, heart pounding. A line of sweat had formed on his lip. He wiped it away then ran a heavy hand through his hair.

"Is he okay? What time is it?" He strained, trying to read his watch. How long had he been asleep? Five minutes? An hour? Daylight still peered through the drawn draperies in the living room and he guessed it was somewhere near lunchtime.

The woman standing over him paused and he studied her with wild eyes. That brief hesitation was all he needed, silently screaming the answer he didn't want to hear.

 _It's over. He's gone._

 _He's really gone._

The hours remaining in the day raced by in a blink. Visits from the coroner and funeral home director. Phone calls. Paperwork. A steady stream of their closest friends, their kind eyes hoping to soften the blow. He wasn't truly aware of everything happening around him but Lloyd was there, overseeing every detail. And Gwen kept them all fed, despite protests that he wasn't the least bit hungry. He wanted to take a more commanding role but exhaustion wove tightly around his brain. And really, there wasn't much for him to do. Coach had seen to that personally. No loose ends. All arrangements made. It was as though the old man had left them a shopping list of sorts. Check each box and move on, just like back in their bar days. _It's how he wanted it_ , he kept reminding himself. Yet somehow that knowledge didn't ease his heartache. The only true father figure in his life was gone. As in, never coming back. He'd contemplated this day in his head thousands of times over the last few months, hoping that maybe it wouldn't come. A protective streak of luck had branded Ernie Pantusso his whole life. Surely he would beat this. But each dismal day gave way to a dismal night and after a few weeks, Sam knew that letting go was best.

He looked around the home they'd shared together. Boxes of medical equipment sat by the stairs, waiting for Hospice to retrieve them. Norm and Cliff exchanged soft goodbyes at the front door with a couple of Sam's former teammates. Carla helped Gwen collect discarded cups and plates that had been scattered around the living room. Lloyd had exited a few minutes earlier with a promise to return early the next morning.

"I want you to take two of these and go to bed. That's not a request." Dr. Sechler, Coach's oncologist, pressed a small, brown bottle into Sam's hand. "You've been amazing, Sam. What you've been through these past few weeks is no less than human warfare. You've handled it with grace and dignity and you've honored Ernie exactly as he wanted."

Sam dropped his eyes from view, only able to muster a humble nod.

"I'll see you on Friday at the memorial. Please don't hesitate to call me if you need anything." The man gripped Sam's arm in a show of support.

With the house quiet and all guests gone, he made his way upstairs to the bed he'd rarely touched. Midnight was just seconds away. Soon the house would be alive again, as their collective friends would gather to remember a very special man. He stared at the tiny white pills in his hand for a moment, thinking back for the first time on the strange dream. The one he was wrapped inside as the most important man in his life left this earthly world. The images of the woman only added to his pain and he doubted the pills would be enough to keep all ghosts at bay.

He pulled the sheets back and slipped in between their cool comfort. Within minutes he could feel the pills working, making his body feel heavy. In the few moments of lucidness that remained her perused his mental checklist. There was only one thing left for him to do-call his ex-wife.

He'd needed to for months.

He'd wanted to for years.

But Coach's request, coupled with his own fear, he'd held off. _Don't bother her, Sam. At least not until it's over. She'll understand. It's better this way. Trust me, son._

"Daddy?" He felt a small hand upon his shoulder.

"What are you doing up?" Sam turned over.

"I had a bad dream," the boy whispered.

"Me too, Buddy. Climb on in."

He moved over, creating a space for his son. They lay together, both in boxers, their arms intertwined. He inhaled the boy's scent, delighting in his sweet breath and freshly washed hair. It was exactly what he needed to calm the chaos of the day.

"Do you want to talk about it? The dream I mean?"

"No," the boy replied, snuggling closer.

"Okay then. Let's go to sleep." Sam yawned and kissed the top of his son's head.

"Daddy?" he whispered once more.

"Hmm?"

"We'll be alright." He patted his father's hand reassuringly. "Coach said we're Malones and Malones are strong."

"That's what he said, huh?"

"Yep."

"Coach was a wise man."

He was a wise man. His simple worldview and unfailing devotion had saved Sam time and again. When drinking and depression wrapped its possessive hands around Sam, Coach grabbed hold too and refused to let go. He'd pulled Sam back from the brink numerous time, the sole rudder of their family, guiding them quietly through both still and choppy waters. Now, after years of steering, his mission was complete.

And Sam's heart was broken.

As he looked down on the small, dark-haired form beside him, he thanked God for the presence of the little man in his life.

"He loved us very much, didn't he Daddy?" the boy added after a long silence.

"He sure did, Buddy. He sure did." Sam's voice cracked as tears formed in his eyes.

He felt his son's body relax and in seconds he was gone, lost in dreams. Sam's mind began to tumble as the medicine was now fully dissolved, tainting his blood with sleep-inducing power.

 _We're Malones...and Malones are strong..._

How prophetic and timely were the words of his six year old son. He would certainly need strength when morning showed its face. When a phone call would bring her voice to him for the first time in twenty years.

 _Oh, Diane...Coach loved you. I remember exactly what he said to me the day you worked your first shift. He said, "Sam Malone, one of us has got to marry that girl. If you won't, I will."_

 _How quickly the years have gone._

 _God, I remember that night like it was yesterday._

 _I remember a lot of things, Diane._

 _In fact, I remember it all._


	2. Chapter 2

Sam opened his eyes and found Gwen's face above him. She covered her lips with her finger, motioning to the sleeping boy beside him. Carefully he slid out of bed, giving his housekeeper a knowing nod before disappearing into the bathroom. After a quick shower, he pulled on a robe and headed downstairs. Lloyd was already waiting, sitting comfortably in the corner of the living room as if it were his own. Phone in hand, he waved to Sam, letting him know he would just be another minute or two.

In the kitchen he found Gwen doing that which she did best-tending to everyone's needs via their stomachs. Living in a house of men for several months, she'd adjusted well. There was a sort of magic about Gwen that he'd yet to figure out. She was always around when you needed her, but mysteriously disappeared at the exact moment you required privacy. Coach had hand-picked her to be his primary caregiver but in the months they'd been together, she'd quickly moved from caregiver to family member. Well into her sixties, she moved with the vigor of a much younger woman. And what a whiz in the kitchen! When she wasn't whipping up something fabulous for them, she was sitting at Coach's bedside, pouring over cookbooks while he slept. On a good day, Coach would offer up his own culinary suggestions, though in truth the old man didn't know a whisk from a spatula. _You should add a little cinnamon to that one_ , he'd say. _A good steak doesn't need anything but salt and pepper_ , _okay?_ She'd just smile and nod, making note of his every word.

"Coffee?" she asked.

"Make it a double," he confirmed, rubbing his forehead.

"Sleep hangover?"

"Must be."

"You haven't slept like that in weeks."

"I don't think I've slept like that in years."

He took the mug from her outstretched hand and took a seat at the oversized island. They didn't speak for a while as Sam silently ran through the order of the day.

"What time did Lloyd show?" he asked.

"About a half-hour ago. He gave the order to wake you."

"Is something wrong?"

"No, I don't think so. He said that he needs to discuss some business with you. It sounded important but he wasn't on fire. You know Mr. Elliott though, he's always on a schedule." She closed the refrigerator. "Eggs and bacon? French toast? Or how about pancakes?"

"I know a certain little man who'd vote for pancakes." He thought back to the tiny boy sleeping peacefully in his bed.

"Pancakes it is," Gwen said with a smile.

With coffee in hand, he returned to the living room. Lloyd had moved to the large sectional and was quietly shuffling a handful of envelopes.

"Writing out your Christmas cards?" Sam asked, moving to the sofa. "It's a little early for that, don't you think?"

The man placed the stack of envelopes on the coffee table and pushed them gently down in front of Sam. "Actually, these are for you. Well, not all of them."

"What are they?"

"Letters. From Ernie."

And just like that he was gone. Sucker-punched in the gut. No way was he ready for letters. Not yet.

"Listen, Lloyd, I don't think I'm ready-"

"You don't have to read them right this minute but he asked that I give them to you immediately after his passing. I'm just following orders." He exhaled loudly as he removed and cleaned his glasses.

"Is there something else?" Sam asked, sensing there was more than just letters to discuss.

"We need to talk about the final resting place."

"What do you mean?"

"Ernie's last request."

"He changed his mind? About the funeral?"

"No, no, he was firm on cremation. It's just that he doesn't want his ashes kept here."

Sam had never really considered what would become of Coach's remains after the memorial service.

"He didn't discuss it with you because he thought you might object." Lloyd continued.

"Object? To what?" Sam asked.

"Coach wants his ashes scattered."

"Okay. So he wants his ashes scattered. If that's what he wants, I'll take care of it."

"In _Greece_ ," Lloyd added.

"Greece?" Sam repeated.

"Yes." The man nodded.

Now he was beyond confused. Coach hadn't touched a toe on Grecian soil in his entire life.

"You're kidding, right? I was thinking more along the lines of centerfield at Fenway. I don't get it? What the hell's in Greece?"

"I asked him the same thing." He pulled a photograph from the pocket of his jacket and placed it on the table between them. "This was his answer."

Though he hadn't seen it in years, Sam recognized it immediately. The two of them together at a sidewalk cafe, laughing at the camera. He smiled as he studied their faces. They were younger. Vibrant. Apparently very happy. He honed in on the coral colored blouse she wore, recalling how beautiful she looked in it. Her hair was cut in a blunt bob then. She'd regretted cutting it so short but he liked it that way. His hair, in contrast, was a little longer than his typical style. _Man, look at us. We were babies!_

Everyone said it and he knew it was true. They were a very striking couple.

"You know, we exchanged vows and sailed around those islands every summer for several years." He ran his finger lightly across the image of his ex-wife. "Those were some damn good days."

"He said he wanted the two of you to scatter his remains in the place where you were the most happy."

 _The two of you_? Quickly his eyes moved from the photo to the stack of envelopes beside it, his heart racing.

"So these other letters..." Sam looked up at Lloyd as the pieces fell into place.

"Are for Diane," the lawyer confirmed.

#

The last of the afternoon sun fell on his face. He was thankful for the distraction of watching his son splash in the pool. Occasionally his cell phone would ring but he'd yet to answer it. Lloyd had called twice, leaving messages both times. Neither call brought news of any interest to him. He'd left a message for Joss's mom, working on a project in Spain. She eventually returned his call, sorry to hear of Coach's passing. No, she wouldn't be able to return for his memorial. Big surprise.

"Watch me, Daddy!" the boy yelled, diving down below the surface of the water.

"Be careful now," Sam warned, his phone ringing again with a third call from Lloyd.

"Hello," he answered.

"I hope you're resting."

"How could I? You call every ten minutes." Sam half-joked.

"Did you get my messages? About Silvia?"

"I got 'em," he said with a sigh.

"I'm really sorry, Sam. I know that-"

"Why? I'm not." Sam interrupted. "I never expected her to be part of this. She barely has time for her own child, let alone..." He stopped, determined to halt the rant he felt coming on. He fought hard not to condemn his third ex-wife in front of their son. "Never mind. Just forget it."

"I called to let you know that I haven't been able to locate the number you need."

"It's okay. I'll call her mother tonight."

"Are you sure? You know, I don't mind making the calls for you. Go over all the information-"

"No..." He sighed again, this time much heavier. "This is something I have to do myself."

"Well if you change your mind, let me know and I'll take care of it."

"Will do." Sam smiled at his son. "I will, uh, call you later and let you know how it goes."

"Sounds good. You should probably get some rest. Friday will be here soon...and it will be tough." Lloyd suggested.

The call ended and he watched his son for several more minutes, feeling pangs of hunger set in. It'd been hours since Gwen won them over with her fluffy pancakes. They'd been so stuffed they skipped lunch altogether. But now it was approaching the dinner hour and Sam knew he needed a full stomach to make two very important phone calls.

"Time to bail out," he announced.

"Aw, Daddy. Just five more minutes."

"Nope. Not gonna happen. If my nose is correct, I think Gwen's got the fish on the grill. It's time to get cleaned up for dinner."

"I hate fish."

"You are a fish. Now let's move, soldier." He wrapped a bright green towel around his small frame, giving him a salute and a playful swat.

Hand in hand they walked back to the house. The boy turned his nose up as the smell of seafood filled the air. Gwen manned the gas grill like a pro, narrating her steps as if on a cooking show. With a wink, Sam ushered the boy upstairs and into the shower.

Gwen was sipping a glass of white wine when they stepped back out to the patio. Again, she'd outdone herself and the table looked as though it'd been styled for a magazine. Grilled salmon with pineapple. Spinach-quinoa salad. Cherry Almond torte. And hot dogs? The boy smiled and thanked her with a high-five. It was their first dinner without a dozen or more bodies moving throughout the house. Everyone had been great in the weeks since Coach had returned home from the hospital. So much food. The freezer was packed and would be for a while. There was always a crew to dine with, most providing the main course. But they quickly grew tired of the endless stream of casseroles and soups. Gwen was lost without something to keep her hands busy. She needed diversion, which the farmers market and kitchen provided-and Sam was thankful for her flavorful, hot meals.

Still clearly exhausted, they didn't say much, leaving most of the conversation to be directed by the boy. Star Wars. Race cars. Sharks. He was never at a loss for a topic. Again Sam watched him, filled with pride at seeing bits of himself. The way he held his fork. His hair, the way it curled up slightly on the back of his neck. The shape of his face and body. But his eyes. His eyes belonged to his mother. Bright, beautiful, and sea green. Almost clear at times and piercing him to his core. Everyday a reminder of the woman he took for better or worse eight years earlier. Mostly for worse.

"Did the caterers ever get back in touch with you?" Sam asked, changing the subject in hopes of running Silvia out of his thoughts.

"They'll be there Friday morning to set everything up around ten. By the time we get back from the service, everything should be ready. I'm not sure exactly how many we'll have-"

"It'll be fine. We could feed everyone from here to LA on what's in the freezer alone."

"My daughter and son-in-law will stay at the bar while they set everything up, just to keep an eye on things."

"I can't thank you enough for everything you've done for us, Gwen. I wouldn't have made it these last few weeks, months, without you. And Coach-" He stopped, feeling his throat close.

"You know I love taking care of my boys." She reached out and gave his hand a loving pat.

They helped clear and clean the dishes, despite Gwen's objections. Once their chores were complete, the three of them retired to the living room, where young Master Malone selected a movie from their vast collection. It had become a ritual of sorts. Even Coach had been wheeled-in in the early days of his diagnosis. The two watched scores of flicks together, Coach making sure the young boy was schooled in the classics. Brando. Bogey. Heston. John Wayne. Far be it from Sam to disapprove. He loved seeing his two favorite men together.

"What have you got for us tonight, Champ?" Sam asked.

"It might be kinda violent for you, but Coach said I _have_ to watch this."

"I think I can handle it." He grinned across the room at Gwen.

"It's called Sp-rat-a-cus." The little boy carefully read the DVD case.

"I think you mean Spartacus." Sam gently corrected.

"That's what I said." The boy beamed.

"It's a classic alright. Violent yes, but still a classic. I think Coach was right. This is definitely required viewing." He said with forced seriousness, knowing the movie was pretty tame by today's standards. "Gwen, are you in?"

"As much as I love movie night, fight-til-the-death stories are not my cup of tea. Let me know when you put on something decent, like _Sound of Music_." She grabbed the boy's big toe teasingly as she exited the room, her knitting bag swinging by her side.

Together on the sofa, they watched the flat screen above the fireplace. It didn't take long for the afternoon sun and second helping of cherry torte to go to work. Less than twenty minutes into the movie, the boy was out. Sam didn't move, fearful that he might wake. Just like the rest of them, his sleep had been sporadic at best. He spooned his body against his son's and watched the movie for a while. But the drama on screen was nothing compared to the one that churned inside him. The one that upped his heartbeat. It was late. Too late to call? Perhaps. But late or not, he was out of time. He glanced over at the stack of envelopes on the coffee table. Undisturbed, exactly as Lloyd had left them earlier that day. He could hear Coach's voice in his head, forcing him to man up and move.

Carefully he slipped over the back of the sofa. The boy stirred momentarily before turning over on his side, away from the television. Sam clicked the remote and the room fell silent. He fished his cell phone from his pocket as he walked quietly through the kitchen. Grabbing a sparkling water from the 'fridge on the way out, he took a long pull as he headed back out to the pool. It was now after ten and he was positive that a certain elderly woman would answer his call with equal parts fear and disdain.

"Chambers residence," a woman answered.

"Hey Helen, it's Sam Malone."

"Sam? What a surprise!"

Sam paused, trying to decide how to respond. _Listen, I realize it's late and we haven't talked in twenty years and I ruined your daughter's life, but my best friend died..._

"Is everything alright?" her tone immediately turned to one of concern.

"Listen, I'm sorry to call so late. Do you remember Ernie Pantuso?"

"The Coach?" she inquired.

"Yes, ma'am. Well, he passed away."

"Oh, Sam. I am so, so sorry."

"Thank you."

"You know we all loved Coach. He was the definition of a character."

"That he was."

Sam spent several minutes filling his former mother-in-law in on the last few months of Coach's life. The diagnosis. Doctors. Hospitals. Hospice.

"I wish you would have let me know. I would have flown out at once and-"

"He didn't want it that way. He didn't want to bother anyone. He wouldn't even let me to tell our closest friends until just recently. It progressed pretty quickly. He didn't even look like himself at the end."

"I understand and I'm so very sorry, Sam. I can't imagine how hard this has been on you."

"It hasn't been easy but we were blessed to have some wonderful hospice workers here and a godsend by the name of Gwen. The end was very peaceful."

"How did Diane take the news? I'm sure she's heartbroken, she loved him so."

"Well actually Helen, that's one of the main reasons I called. I haven't told Diane. I don't know how to get in touch with her."

"She's up on Cayuga Lake, just north of the university," she said as though he expected Sam to know, that he simply needed reminding.

"The university?" Sam questioned.

"She's teaching at Cornell. Surely you knew that though."

"She's teaching? In New York? I had no idea. Last I heard she was living in Charleston. Had some big feature in Southern Living magazine."

"Well, that was a while back. They moved up to Ithaca a couple of years ago. Big, beautiful estate right on the water."

 _They_. _They_ moved. She is a _they_? Has she remarried? Does she have children? The thought made him uneasy, even though he himself had done the very same.

"Well, she can tell you all about it. Let me give you the number."

Helen read off the digits and Sam etched them into the label of his bottle with a ballpoint pen. The conversation stalled for a moment and his mind whirled as he searched anxiously for something to say.

"Sam, I am truly sorry. Ernie was a pure soul and I know you will miss him a great deal."

"Thank you so much." Sam sighed, trying to release some of the pressure.

"That old man loved you more than you'll ever know," she added.

"I loved him too...very much." Sam felt his throat close.

Sam left her both his cell number and the land line before ending the call. Lying quietly on the chaise, he listened to the sounds of another summer evening winding down. The weather was perfect-such a sharp contrast to the rest of his world.

He'd lost Coach.

They'd talked about it. Prepared. Said their goodbyes. And yet none of it lessened the blow. He couldn't push it from his mind no matter how hard he tried. A few minutes here and there, with the little man to pull his thoughts to happy places. But the minutes were fleeting and he wondered if and when he'd crawl out from under the dark cloud.

#

Goodbyes said, Helen Chambers hung up. She'd been devastated when Diane showed up at the door unexpectedly, eyes swollen from crying, and announced that her marriage to Sam was over.

Helen turned her eyes back to the phone, debating internally. _Sam said he wouldn't call Diane until the morning due to the lateness of the hour._ She glanced at her watch but knew her daughter, the night owl, was probably still awake, pouring over fabric swatches or flipping through furniture catalogs. She lifted the receiver to her ear and dialed.

"Mummy, what's wrong?" she answered on the first ring, her voice sleepy.

"Nothing, darling. I'm so sorry I woke you."

"What's the matter?" she asked again, unconvinced.

"I have had some news, I'm afraid. There was a call..." she began.

"A call? From whom?" Her voice now echoed panic.

"Sam," Helen revealed after a long pause.

The line went silent for several seconds. Diane looked over at the fair-haired man asleep beside her.

"Give me two minutes. I'll call you right back," she whispered.

"Of course."

#

Gwen followed them upstairs, turning back layers of bedding as Sam softly placed his son into bed. He sat down beside him for a minute, taking in his every feature. _A sleeping child is one of the most beautiful things on earth_ , he thought with a smile. It was a thought he confirmed nightly, looking in on his sleeping boy one last time. He deposited a light kiss on his forehead before tiptoeing back into the hallway and down to his own bedroom.

He showered for the second time that day. The warm water was soothing and he was in no rush to get out. He thought back on the short conversation with Helen. Surprisingly, it had gone better than he expected. Twenty years without a word evidently hadn't made much difference. Helen spoke to him as though not a day had passed. Even though she'd been clearly pained by their divorce, to Sam's knowledge Helen never really took sides. Now only one question remained: would his morning call to Diane be as well received?

He stepped from the shower and dried off. Completing his nightly ritual, he fell into bed. He eyed the brown bottle on the bedside table for a minute. _You can forget that_ , he thought resolutely. _You don't want to end up back in rehab, do you?_

The lamp beside him went dark and he turned over on his side. The house was unusually quiet. Or maybe he was just noticing the calm that now existed in his life for the first time. No more doctors. No more pain. No more cancer. It was finally over.

He was already dreaming when the phone rang. Startled and half-asleep, he quickly grabbed the receiver, afraid of waking the whole house.

"Hello?" he whispered sleepily.

"Sam?" Her voice was shaky but unmistakable. "It's me."

"Diane?" He shot up, now wide awake on the edge of the bed.


	3. Chapter 3

Breakfast was unusually quiet. She sipped her coffee. He nibbled a piece of burned toast. Between them, the Times lay sprawled out across the table. Her cab would be arriving any moment and she could tell by his silence and rigid posture that he still wasn't okay with it. They'd talked everything out the day before. Well, she'd talked. He'd listened, not offering much.

"I don't know why you won't just let me drive you to the airport?" he broached the subject yet again.

"I told you why. Because you won't be satisfied with dropping me off at the terminal. You'll want to wait there with me and-"

"And none of that matters as long as I'm with you."

"You don't have that kind of time today. You're in back to back meetings. Some of which have already been rescheduled. And you're leaving Sunday for the conference."

"When you're president of the university, that's one of the small luxuries you're afforded. Cancelling at the last minute," he joked.

"Les, please don't start this again. I explained why I have to do this my way," she replied with some degree of force.

"All right, all right. I won't beg." He backed off, sensing her argumentative tone.

"Thank you. Begging never suits university presidents."

Moving her chair closer to his, she smiled and straightened his tie. She wondered if there had been a secret motive to his selecting it. She'd given it to him on Valentine's Day earlier that year, a joke of sorts. A hot pink and red _power tie,_ or so she'd called it. Nothing about it said power in the least. It was gaudy. Atrocious even. Like sappy, dime-store romance in long silk form. They'd had a good laugh about it and he'd only worn it one other time-the night she accepted his proposal.

He reached and placed his hand over hers, looking into her eyes with a childlike expression. "Should I be worried? Tell me I don't have anything to worry about and I'll leave you alone," he whispered.

His tone was serious. It cut her like a knife.

"Why would you even think you'd need to ask such a question?"

"I don't know..." He looked away.

"I'll be back tomorrow night. It's one night away."

"You'll be with him."

"Yes, I'll be with him...at a _memorial_ service...with a hundred other people. Tonight it's a quiet dinner in my room. Sleep. Shower. Cab to the service. Cab to the airport and I'm back." It was clear she was becoming agitated.

"He's not just anyone. He's your ex-husband."

"Leslie Meredith, if I didn't know better, I'd think you're jealous."

"Well of course I'm jealous."

"That's ridiculous." She rolled her eyes. "You have no reason to be. No reason whatsoever."

"It's just the phone rings one time and-"

"You know, you're right. You're absolutely right." She raised her voice, agitated. "He's waited twenty years for this exact moment to re-enter my life and sweep me right off my feet."

Her sarcasm was one of the sharpest weapons in her arsenal. He didn't respond, other than by folding his arms tightly across his chest. His eyes locked on hers as if to say _We'll see..._

She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to regain composure. "The closest thing he had to a father died, Les. That's the _only_ reason he contacted me. Not because he suddenly wants me back."

"How could he not want you back." He pulled her onto his lap, ready to call a truce. "I'd want you back."

"You wouldn't have let me slip away in the first place." She rested her head against his chest.

He held her close, the woman that still eluded him in so many ways. They shared their lives, their careers, the same bed. So why did he worry that she could slip away at any moment? Throughout the course of their relationship, and even now, as she wore his ring, he'd never quite been able to shake that feeling.

The cab honked twice and he glanced at the vintage Parisian clock on the wall. It was time to let her go. Reluctantly he followed her outside and loaded her small bag in the trunk. He opened the cab door then pulled her back into his arms once more.

"Why do I always feel that every time we say goodbye, it'll be our last?" His arms held tight to her waist.

"Because you have a flair for the dramatic." She fussed at his tie once more. "And the fashion sense to prove it."

"I graduated from Yale, you know. Top of my class."

"Yes, I know."

"Captain of the fencing _and_ crew teams." He reminded her. "Back-to-back championships in crew my junior and senior year."

"I remember." She bit back a grin.

"And I don't know if you're aware of it, but I am currently the _youngest_ university president in Ivy League history."

"Impressive. And you're telling me all this because..."

"I'm kind of a big deal." He flashed a smoldering smile.

"I knew _that_ the moment you rescued me in the middle of a downpour."

"Diane, I'm sorry...about earlier." He increased his grip.

"It's okay. We're running on little sleep and high emotion. I'm sorry I raised my voice."

"Call me right when you land?"

"I'll leave word with your secretary because you'll be behind closed doors, sharing your brilliant mind with your collegiate underlings."

"I like to refer to them as minions-my _minions_."

"Oh right. Your quest for world domination?"

"There's only one thing I'm interested in dominating." He gave her a playful pinch.

They stopped talking and stared into each other's eyes. She brushed his hair back off his forehead and smiled. _My intelligent, boy-next-door. My quiet, gentle man_.

"Just remember, he may have a touch of celebrity and ooze charm from every pore, but there's one thing in this world I've got that Sam Malone doesn't." He ran his fingers through her soft blonde hair.

"Me?" she said modestly, still smiling.

"Phi Beta Kappa membership," he whispered with a mischievous grin.

#

It felt strange, staying in a hotel in the same city she once called home. It'd been years since she'd been back and not much had changed. More traffic. More Hipsters. She was flat exhausted and starving by the time she swiped the card key to her room. A call to one of her favorite Chinese restaurants produced a bag full of long-forgotten culinary treats. She sat watching an old movie, waiting for Les to return her call. They'd talked earlier but only briefly, as he was dining with a colleague. She was halfway through a box of Lo Mein when her cell chimed, signaling the delivery of a text message. She smiled as she waited for a photo to download...grinning even wider when the image of a chess board appeared on the small screen. Quickly she called him back.

"Knight to C3," he answered.

"Nice move. It took you long enough."

"Well, you with that Alekhine defense. I'm forced into extensive deliberation."

"How was dinner?" she asked.

"I was stuck listening to two hours worth of stories about the inability to get their Welsh Corgi impregnated. Did you know there were fertility drugs for dogs?"

"That bad, huh?"

"Only until he picked up the check. How's Boston?"

"I wouldn't know. I'm holed up here in my lovely little suite with Chef Chan's best."

"Chef Chan?"

"One of my old haunts is still in business. I had it delivered. It's just me, my noodles, and Turner Classics."

"I miss you." He changed the subject and the tone of his voice. It was obvious he still felt bad about their exchange early that morning.

"I miss you too."

"So what's the weather like in Bean Town?"

"Clear and gorgeous."

"Lucky you. It's pouring here," he informed her.

"Is it?"

"Yes and I've been sitting here listening to it and thinking about the day we met."

"The day you took pity on a drowned rat?"

"You were the sexiest thing on two legs. Clumsy but sexy."

"I guess I should thank that damn courier for not showing up."

"You were a woman on a mission, weren't you? Running, jumping over puddles with that huge stack of file folders in your hand in those spiky heels-"

"With my broken, worthless umbrella."

"Then that guy on the bike raced in front of you and made you lose your balance. And that's when the strap on your bag broke and everything fell out onto the sidewalk. Papers started flying everywhere-" His voice was animated and she knew he was smiling.

"Then this handsome man rushed to my aid," she said in a valiant tone.

"I can still see the way that purple wrap dress hugged your body. You were soaked to the bone. But the way the wet fabric was stuck to you, and the ends of your hair, all stuck against your neck-"

"It was green," she interrupted, at the exact moment her cell phone died. "Les? Are you still there? Les? Hello?" _Damn!_

Seconds later the phone beside the bed rang and she quickly answered.

"You're fast."

"What was green?" He brought the conversation right back to where it had suddenly ended.

"Green? Oh! My dress. My dress was green."

"No ma'am. You are incorrect. The day we met, you were wearing a purple dress. _Deep_ purple. Almost plum. You didn't wear the _green_ dress until our first date."

She paused and bit her lip, knowing that he was right.

"My god, I could've taken you right there on the sidewalk," he continued.

"Again with the dramatics..." She smiled.

"You know how long it took me to fall in love with you?" he asked.

"I have no idea."

"About two seconds."

"That's because you're very punctual," she teased.

"I do love you, Diane.

"I love you too."

They talked a few minutes more, right up until he yawned. At that point, she ordered him to bed and promised to do the same soon. She finished her dinner and slipped into a hot shower. It wasn't long before she was in bed with lights out. Lying in the darkness she allowed herself to think about Coach for the first time. She hadn't really been able to following calls with her mother and Sam-not with the initial shock of the news and the tension with Les. At first she was upset that she hadn't been kept in the loop, as it were. She expressed her disappointment to Sam. He didn't fight back but agreed with her. Wholeheartedly. With a wounded sort of tone. That's when she knew it was time to change her attitude. She apologized. Yes, she understood he was acting on Coach's orders. Of course she wouldn't miss his memorial service.

That wounded tone.

In truth, that's where her mind had been all day. She imagined him there at Coach's bedside. Holding his hand. Reliving old tales. Trying his best to remain upbeat and positive, because that's the kind of man he was. They meant everything to one another. She felt tears in her eyes. Were they for the old man...or the pain she knew Sam was feeling?

The phone beside the bed rang, startling her. She dabbed her eyes with the edge of the sheet and sat up.

"Listen, if you're calling to debate the color of the shoes I was wearing the day we met..."

There was a long pause on the other end before he cleared his voice and spoke.

"Well let's see. As I recall, you were wearing pumps. No wait, they were slingback. Bone colored slingbacks, if my memory serves me correctly. You were wearing this two piece suit-a skirt and jacket. Sort of a bluish color. But what I remember most is the hot pink silk blouse you were wearing...and how it brought out the color of your lips."

"Sam?" She was blown away with how quickly he recited the details of a day she'd forgotten. And shocked that he'd tracked her down. "H-How did you know I was here?"

"What's that old saying? The more things change, the more they stay the same? You always did love vintage hotels. So, I took a chance. I hope I didn't wake you."

"Are you telling me that of all the hotels in Boston, you just happened to pick up the phone and dial the exact one where I'm staying? On your very first try?"

"Just lucky I guess. I wanted to make sure you made it in all right."

She waited for a moment, wondering if he would continue. But when the silence on the line reached an uncomfortable degree, she decided he was waiting on her.

"I'm fine. The question is, how are you doing? Really?" she asked in a sincere tone.

"Better than I thought. I've been able to sleep more, which has helped. It's actually somewhat of a relief knowing that this will all be over tomorrow. I know that probably sounds pretty callous-"

"No, it doesn't. I understand. And you're not the first person to ever feel that way." She thought back to her father's battle with disease and those final, exhausting days.

"I'd really like to swing by and pick you in the morning. I know you said you'd just take a cab, but-"

"I appreciate the offer, really I do, it's just that I'm leaving for the airport right after the service. I've already cleared a cab to wait for me."

"Leaving?"

"I have to get back to New York."

"But everyone is coming here after the service. People that you haven't seen in forever."

He rattled off a collection of names from her past and she felt her heart sink. People she hadn't seen or thought about in years. Friends that shared her life way back when she was Mrs. Sam Malone. It would be good to see them again.

"Could you take a later flight? I have a buddy with a private plane. It just takes one phone call. I'm sure he'd be more than happy to-"

"I couldn't ask you to do that. My ticket is paid for and I really must get back."

"Please think about staying. There are so many people who would love to see you." He paused again. "And I'd really like a few minutes to catch up with you myself."

His words were soft and honest. So why were they making her feel so uncomfortable?

"Listen, I didn't mention it when we talked before but Lloyd-you remember Lloyd Elliott, don't you?"

"Of course. No one forgets Lloyd."

"He's been my right hand, overseeing every detail. Financial accounts, insurance, all the funeral arrangements." Sam paused, unsure how to broach the subject of Coach's final wish. "He wants to talk with both of us at some point tomorrow. Evidently the old man left us some letters."

"Coach left a letter? For me?"

"Not letter. Letters. Plural. I didn't know anything about them. I haven't read mine yet so..." He stopped, fearing his voice might crack.

She and Coach communicated for a long time following the divorce. But several notes a year eventually dwindled to just a card at Christmas or maybe a birthday. Finally, over the last few years, no correspondence at all. She understood. Both she and Sam had moved on. She suspected Coach had finally done the same.

"Are you still there?" he asked.

"Uh, yes. Sorry."

"I thought the three of us could sit down together after everyone clears out...you know, to discuss things."

She could tell by the tone of his voice that there was more to his story, but she knew he was tired so she didn't press. Aside from her promise to Les, there was no other reason she had to fly home right away. Would he understand her need to stay an additional night?

"I'll see about catching a later flight," she conceded.

"That would be great. It'll give us a chance to spend some time together. And I really can't wait for you to meet Joss."

"Joss?" she repeated the name, envisioning an exotic, long-legged beauty on her ex-husband's arm.

"My son."


	4. Chapter 4

It took her eyes a minute to adjust as she stepped into the funeral home's dark vestibule. Immediately she was transported back in time, as a number of familiar faces moved in and out of view. The people of her past. Shaking hands. Exchanging hugs. Sunglasses still in place, she inched her way to the guestbook. The framed photo of Coach on display made her smile. It was a great candid shot of him, leaning against the railing of a baseball dugout, taken at what she guessed was one of his last games in the MLB. _Classic Coach_.

She perused the list of mourners in attendance. All the names Sam had mentioned were present plus plenty of others she recognized. There were probably close to two hundred people packed into the chapel. _Standing room only, Coach. Everybody loved you._

She slipped her sunglasses and a program into the side pocket of her handbag and went in search of a seat. She squeezed onto the end of a pew in the back. Men in dark suits continued to bring in enormous sprays of fresh flowers as organ music played softly in the speakers overhead. A table with a silver urn sat center stage, flanked by several large easels displaying portraits of Coach. Her eyes moved methodically across the back of every head seated near the front but she didn't see him. The crowd was just too vast. She spun her engagement ring nervously around her finger, anxious for the service to begin. The room felt unusually warm. Or was it just her?

"Diane?" someone whispered from behind.

"Lloyd!" She turned around, smiling at his welcoming face.

"Oh, Diane..." He bent over the pew and hugged her warmly. "It's so good to see you."

"You too," she answered softly.

"What are you doing way back here?" he asked. "You're supposed to be up there." He pointed toward the front of the chapel.

"What? Oh no, I'm fine right here, really."

"Sam asked me to keep an eye out for you. He would like you to sit up front. The front row is reserved for family."

"Well...it's just that I..." She struggled to find a meaningful argument for staying put.

"C'mon, I'll walk you down. The service will be starting any minute."

She knew she wouldn't win and it was not the time to make a scene. She took Lloyd's outstretched arm, allowing him to escort her to the front. She smiled and nodded, feeling every eye upon her. Whispers rippled around her, moving through the chapel like a wave. She felt certain that money was actually changing hands between those who'd bet on whether or not she'd return.

The front pew was indeed empty. Lloyd was too fast, forcing her to take the inside seat while he settled in on the aisle. Her palms were suddenly sweaty and she wondered how she'd make it through the service with him sitting just inches away.

The thought had just crossed her mind when a gentleman in a grey suit and yellow tie entered from a side door. Behind him, an attractive, older woman, holding the hand of a beautiful little boy, followed closely by her former husband. The three accepted supportive hugs from the grey-suited man. His face to the floor, Sam approached the pew. She held her breath, anticipating the moment their eyes would meet, but he avoided her gaze entirely. He took his place on the opposite end of the pew, the older woman and his son filling the space between them.

"You must be Diane." The woman reached and patted her hand affectionately. "I'm Gwen."

"It's so nice to meet you." Diane smiled. "Sam's told me wonderful things about you."

"I know he's so happy that you're here," she whispered back.

The organ music stopped and the room fell silent, thus halting their exchange. She leaned back slightly, discretely, catching Sam's profile out of the corner of her eye. He kept his eyes forward, his face wearing the same focused look as the photograph of Coach in the vestibule. Several times she thought she felt his eyes on her but she dared not to look.

Coach's memorial was moving. Many of his close friends took turns at the podium, sharing their memories of the man. Some of them funny. Some, deeply touching. It wasn't long until she found herself digging in her handbag for a tissue. That's when a tiny hand extended in her direction, offering a travel pack of Kleenex. She smiled in thanks, amazed at the boy's beauty. Tanned skin. Sam's face and hair. Eyelashes for days. Each time her attention shifted to the left, his bright green eyes were there, waiting. Once, he even gave her a wink.

 _Oh my goodness_... _like father, like son._

The service concluded with The Lord's Prayer, which the entire assembly recited in unison. The man in the grey suit returned to the podium to address them one last time.

"It was Coach's wish that today be a celebration of his life. A reception is being held at Cheers in his honor and Sam would like to extend the invitation to everyone."

The organ music began playing again. The man gave a knowing nod to Sam, prompting him to stand. Gwen tapped Diane lightly on the shoulder, signaling her to follow suit. Lloyd stood as well and the five of them exited the chapel, she and Sam in the lead with the others following behind. Again she felt the eyes of those assembled, dissecting her body language and facial expressions.

Sam must have sensed her discomfort, placing his hand protectively on the small of her back as he guided her out into the vestibule.

They were immediately directed out to a covered driveway. Half a step ahead of him, they still hadn't spoken or made eye contact but his hand stayed firmly in place. It wasn't until they were out of earshot from the others that he stopped and they turned to face each other.

" _You are the nuttiest, the stupidest, the phoniest fruitcake I ever met!" he yelled._

" _And you, Sam Malone, are the most arrogant, self-centered-" she hollered._

" _Shut up!" Sam screamed. "Shut your fat mouth."_

" _Make me," she taunted._

" _Make you?" He felt a rage building. "My god, I'm gonna bounce you off every wall in this office."_

" _Try it and you'll be walking funny tomorrow. Or should I say funnier?"_

" _You know, you know, I always wanted to pop you one. Maybe this is my lucky day, huh?"_

 _He took several steps toward her closing the gap between them. Months of endless flirtation and prideful jabs were merely a prelude to what they both desperately wanted-each other._

" _You disgust me. I hate you," she said, feigning disdain._

" _Are you as turned on as I am?" he asked, his body now touching hers._

" _More." She wrapped her arms around him._

" _Bet me." He pressed his lips against hers and kissed her deeply._

The memory was as fresh in his mind as if it had happened the day before-the exact moment he knew he'd fallen completely in love with her. They stood without speaking, looking into each other's eyes for the first time in twenty years.

"I didn't want them to take this moment." He glanced toward the chapel, referencing the enormous crowd still inside. "That's why I didn't look at you in there. I knew that if I did, I'd-"

He was thinner. More grey hair than she expected. But the eyes. Though they were tinged with dark circles, they were as blue as she remembered. The kind of blue that makes the sky jealous.

"I understand," she acknowledged softly.

"I can't tell you how much it means to have you here." He began to tear up.

"I wouldn't be anywhere else but right here." She felt her voice crack.

They stood frozen, reliving years of memories with just their eyes. She knew he could go at any moment and she reached out for him. They held each other, still not speaking. His body was comfortingly familiar. When she felt him start to shake, she gripped him even tighter, letting him know he was safe, that he could let it all go. They stood together, oblivious to everything around them, and cried for the loss of the man who was both father and friend.

"Why is it so hard to let go?" he whispered in her ear.

"When you love someone so deeply..." The lump in her throat blocked out the rest of her words.

It wasn't until he felt Lloyd's hand on his shoulder that he pulled away from her.

"Uh Sam, I'm sorry to interrupt, but the officers are ready to roll when you are. We've got quite a motorcade."

"Right. Thanks." He wiped his eyes. "Listen, I want to apologize for last night. I understand if you can't stay. It wasn't fair of me to try and guilt you into-"

"I'm flying out tomorrow morning." Diane interrupted. "And you didn't guilt me. I _want_ to stay."

"Thank you." He took her hand and squeezed it warmly. Joss and Gwen were headed their way and Sam quickly took a deep breath and put on a brave, happy face.

"Hey Champ, I want you to meet a very special friend of mine. Joss, this is Diane. She flew all the way from New York to be here today. She and Coach were great friends."

"We've met." It was Diane turn to offer a wink. "Though not officially."

"Nice to meet you." Joss stuck his small hand out and shook Diane's forcefully.

"That's some grip you've got there." Diane shot Sam a look. She found the sadness in his eyes had been replaced with paternal pride and it made her heart feel full.

"A man is judged by the strength of his handshake," the boy replied matter-of-factly.

"Is that so?" She couldn't contain her grin, amazed at the enormous confidence contained in a such a small package.

"Listen, you and Aunt Gwen are gonna ride with Mr. Elliott back to our house. Diane and I will be right behind you," Sam informed him. "Is that okay with you?" He turned back to her eyes, finding them as bright and inviting as ever.

"That's fine," she said with a nod.

"C'mon, Sport. We're first in line, right behind the police motorcycle." Lloyd scooped the young boy up in his arms.

It wasn't until Diane was buckled safely inside his car that she mentally questioned their destination. They were going back to place where it all started. She'd finally kept true to her word when she walked out of Cheers for the last time, vowing to never return. She hadn't stepped foot in the bar, or the city for that matter, in twenty years. As much as she loved it and their friends who lived there, the memories were just too painful. Now she was about to be totally engulfed by her past. It made her stomach writhe in knots.

Sam smiled and waved at the car in front of them as a small arm moved furiously in their direction. Again she found the prideful look in his eyes.

"Your son is absolutely beautiful, Sam." Diane smiled and waved at him too.

"He is, isn't he?" Sam replied. "He's my good luck charm."

"He's a chip, alright. _A man is judged by his handshake._.." She imitated the boy's funny little voice.

"Ah yes. The world according to Coach. He's been schooled."

"I'm guessing that's a pretty well-rounded education."

"Aw, Diane..." He sighed. "I wish you could have seen the two of them together. They were perfect. Talk about your mutual admiration society. They adored one another. Joss doesn't have a relationship with his mother's parents. Coach was the only grandparent Joss has ever known."

"Well he might not be fully aware of it yet, but he was very blessed to have Coach in his life." She paused, thinking back on their days together. "We all were."

They kept to safe topics. The service. The familiar faces in the crowd. It wasn't nearly as uncomfortable as she'd feared. Before she knew it, they were driving past her old apartment building, just a few blocks from the bar.

" _Sam, I think the important thing here is that we've both learned something tonight. You've learned that violence and hostility have no place in a romantic relationship."_

" _No, no place at all, no place at all," he agreed._

" _And, I've discovered something too." She settled herself on Sam's lap. "I like the lift part. I like it a lot."_

 _She cupped his face with her hands before finding his lips. She kissed him twice, hoping to leave no doubt in his mind as to her true feelings for him. Sam stood, Diane cradled in his arms, and gave her exactly what she wanted. He carried her toward her bedroom. At the door he stopped and locked on her eyes._

" _You know, you've made my life a living hell." He studied her face with longing._

" _I didn't want you to think I was easy." She smirked as he carried her over the threshold._

She was a million miles away, lost in the memory of their first time making love and completely unaware the car had stopped until he gently nudged her hand.

"Diane, we're home-I mean here. We're here." He smiled softly. 

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	5. Chapter 5

She studied the collection of photos that hung on the walls and adorned the shelves of his newly expanded and renovated office-a framed history of Sam's life since their divorce. Almost every shot featured him alongside a young boy's smiling face. There was no doubt how they felt about each other. Joss saw his daddy as a hero and Sam was a loving, attentive father. In six short years, Joss Malone had probably experienced more of the world than most do in a lifetime, or so said the photos. Deep sea fishing with Coach in the Yucatan. In a pint-sized snow suit on the bunny slopes in Stowe. A prideful look standing with a group of professional golfers at The US Open. Seeing the expression on Sam's face in each picture gave her feelings of intense guilt. As she'd studied their interactions throughout the day, one thought seemed to hang in the forefront of her mind...

 _Oh Sam, this is the job you were born to do. What an amazing father you are._

She'd watched her ex-husband a lot actually. Shaking hands. Accepting hugs. Finding his old smile as he quietly shared memories with his guests. Occasionally their eyes would meet but it was never strange or uncomfortable. He seemed genuinely happy that she was present. He didn't hover but allowed her to mingle at her own pace. There were a couple of times when he sought her out, needing assistance in retelling a story from their collective past. At one point the entire assembly was silent, hanging on every word as together they shared one of many hilarious tales of his Coach's life. The laughter that erupted around them, she could tell, was just the medicine Sam needed. His expression grew brighter and he appeared truly relaxed for the first time all day.

"Coffee?" Gwen interrupted her thoughts as she entered.

"That'd be great." She quickly turned around and smiled. "You know, I had no idea that Sam had become a restauranteur until I saw the sign for Melville's now reads Malone's. And this office was just a rabbit hutch at one time. Now it's like something out of Architectural Digest. It's stunning. Absolutely gorgeous."

"All four of his restaurants are hugely popular and he's about to open a fifth. Seems he's got the Midas Touch."

"Sam's never had a problem in the Wine and Dine department." Diane smiled again. "Where did he disappear to?"

"I think he's still outside chatting with the officers. They certainly earned their pay today. Lloyd tried to get a head count at one point. I think he gave up at two hundred."

"Coach was blessed to have so many good friends." Diane sunk down in a sumptuous leather wingback chair.

"I know he'd be especially pleased knowing you were here for his memorial. He spoke so fondly of you."

"Did he?" Diane sounded surprised.

"He did indeed." The woman sat down on the settee opposite her. "He talked about you quite a bit when we were alone. I used to go into his room and read to him. The sports section of the paper. You know, he let me in on a little secret about you too."

"And what secret is that?" Diane asked, intrigued.

"He told me that _you_ are _the_ Jessica Bordais." She whispered.

Diane smiled shyly, giving her coffee a quick stir. "Guilty as charged. I am, or at least I was, Jessica Bordais. But that was a long time ago."

"That's incredible." Gwen clapped her hands with delight. "You know I've read all your books. The entire _Phillip and Phoebe_ series."

"Well, it was just three little books. Not exactly Agatha Christie, I know..." She laughed.

"They were fantastic."

"Thank you very much. "

"How on earth did you find time, in your highly successful world of interior design, to write a mystery series?"

"The days were busy, but the nights were long and quiet. I've always enjoyed writing. It's how I unwind. Well, how I used to unwind."

"What I don't understand is, well, you must have been a child when you wrote those, because that was years ago when I read them and well, you're so young."

"I'm not as young as you might think." Diane smiled.

"Are you working on anything else?"

"Sadly, no. Between teaching interior design and volunteering with several non-profits I support, I just don't have the time any more. The book series was there for me in a time when I really needed it. But with the internet shrinking the planet the way it has, I seriously doubt my characters would be very popular with readers today. Unless I made them vampires."

"Good lord, don't do that." Gwen begged.

"Don't do what?" Sam asked as strolled with long steps into the office.

"Pursue the dark netherworld for her next novel." Gwen stood, giving Diane a wink.

"Netherworld?" He looked puzzled.

"Never mind." Diane shook her head.

Sam glanced around the room then turned to Gwen. "Where's the little man?"

"Asleep in the pool room. He's wiped out." She answered. "In fact, I should pop up and check on him."

As she passed, she offered Sam a supportive pat on the shoulder. She continued on, leaving them alone for the first time since they'd returned from the service.

"Care for a cup?" Diane asked him, motioning to the tray between them.

"I'd love one." He flopped down in the chair beside her. "Better pour one for Lloyd too. He'll be back in a minute. He's getting his briefcase from his car."

Diane's steady heartbeat was suddenly disrupted. In minutes she'd hold the letters from Coach. Her face reflected apprehension which he noticed immediately.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

"What? Oh, yes, I'm fine."

"Tired?"

"A little. Though I know I have absolutely no reason to complain." Diane added. "You must be exhausted."

"It was really nice, don't you think?" He smiled at her. "I think everyone had a great time."

"It's exactly what Coach would have wanted." She nodded. "No tears. Good food. Lots of laughter."

"I thought we might have around a buck twenty-five here. I never dreamed we'd have double that."

"Everyone loved Coach. Of course, how could you not?"

"Everyone sure loved seeing you. I didn't think Norm and Vera would let you out of their sight," he continued.

"It was good to see them again." Diane sighed. "It was good to see everyone. I just wish it would have been under different circumstances."

"It was good to reconnect with so many old friends. Make toasts and tell stories. You're right. It's exactly what the old man would have wanted."

"You know, I'd forgotten all about that time we were in Las Vegas. When Coach got mixed up with that cross-dressing _senorita_ at the Blackjack table..." She laughed.

"That old man swore to the end that he knew _she_ was a _he_ the whole time, and that the joke was on everyone else."

"Those were some wonderful stories you told today, Sam."

"I really wanted to speak at the memorial. Lloyd and I discussed it. I even spoke with the funeral director." He paused a moment. "But I knew I wouldn't be able to make it through."

"Well you certainly connected with everyone here." She nodded. "You're still a great storyteller."

"Only because I had you close by to fact-check." He gave her a warm smile.

There was no real tension or animosity that she could detect. He moved beyond civility and into downright friendliness, as though everything between them had been forgiven and forgotten. Had twenty years helped to soften his heart? Or was Coach's death the only catalyst in his current attitude?

"Speaking of fact-checkers," She fought to stay focused and keep the conversation moving. "I spent a few minutes talking with David O'Dell. I had no idea he and Jane had gotten divorced. Talk about a shock."

"Let's see..." He sighed. "It was back before Joss was born, I remember that. I guess about seven or eight years ago now."

"His new wife is very..." Diane searched for the right word.

"Young?" Sam smirked. "Pregnant?"

"Well, yes, on both counts." Diane grinned. "You know, I almost blew it. I thought she was his daughter. Thank God I didn't hug her and go on about how quickly she'd grown up."

"Even if you had, I seriously doubt you'd be the first." He continued. "She's only a year older than his oldest."

"He seems pretty happy."

"He looks pretty ridiculous, you gotta admit. All that constant belly rubbing. He can't keep his hands off her."

"Well, obviously he's excited to be a father again."

"He's sixty-two years old!" Sam announced. "I thought I was pushing it at fifty."

"I wonder what Jane thinks about it?" Diane tucked her legs up under her. "God, I haven't heard from her in forever. She was always so fussy and proper, wasn't she?"

"Takes one to know one," he said with a wink.

"I bet she's fit to be tied over this."

"Well, I don't think Jane cares. She's the one who ended the marriage. Ran off with her Pilates instructor."

"What? You're kidding?" Diane was fascinated by the goings-on in the lives of old friends. "Anyone I might know?"

"Naw, I don't think so." He shook his head firmly.

"I wonder if he's as young as David's new wife."

"Uh," Sam shook his head. "Not exactly. From what I heard, _she_ and Jane are about the same age."

"Oh." Diane nodded, somewhat shocked.

"Evidently they're happily married, living in Portland, and running a Vitamin Shoppe franchise."

"Wow." She shook her head again. "I would have never guessed. I always thought David and Jane were the perfect couple."

"Even perfect couples get divorced," he replied in a husky tone.

Diane felt the warmth of a blush on her cheeks and quickly changed the subject.

"Gwen said that you're really making your mark in the restaurant business. By the looks of this office, I say a rather successful one at that."

"You like it?"

"It's stunning. The transformation is amazing."

"I've heard the right interior designer can change your life." He flashed a wide smile.

"Is that so?" She bit back a grin.

She found herself breathlessly anticipating his reply, but their exchange was cut short when Lloyd entered, briefcase in hand.

"Is that coffee?" he asked.

"It is. Would you like a cup?" Diane offered.

"I'd take it in an IV at this point." He said, rifling through his briefcase. "Listen, I know it's been an extremely long day, we're all exhausted, so I'm going to get right to the point." He removed several envelopes and placed them on the table. "Diane, I can't thank you enough for staying on. I know I could've mailed these to you and we could have discussed all this over the phone or by email, but Ernie really wanted these to be hand-delivered." He pushed the stack over in front of her. "I gave Sam his letters a few days ago."

"Thank you." Diane nodded, her heart beating quickly.

"Have you discussed the final resting place with her yet?" He turned to Sam.

"No. I, uh...I was, uh, waiting on you." Sam shook his head.

"Final resting place?" she asked, confused.

Sam stood and retrieved his wallet from his back pocket. There within its folds, he removed a photograph. He looked at it a moment before handing it to his ex-wife.

"Do you remember this?" he asked, locking on her eyes.

She looked at the picture for a minute. Of course she remembered the day but for reasons very different than the moment caught on film.

 _"What are we going to do about dinner?" she asked._

 _"The question you should be asking is, what are you going to do about me?" He swept her hair back, running a line of soft kisses down her neck. "'Cause I know exactly what I'd like to do. With you. For you. In you."_

 _"Sam!" She tried to wriggle away. "People can see us. We're not invisible."_

 _"There's not a soul on this whole stretch of beach." He continued to nuzzle her neck._

 _"You're going to get us arrested." She giggled._

 _"On what charge? Kissing my wife?" His arms encircled her and he pulled her silk blouse free from the confines of her waistband._

 _"Sam, stop." She tried to pull away again, but he held fast._

 _"Have we made love on a beach yet?" he asked, slipping his hands underneath her blouse._

 _"Everywhere but." She smiled. "The sand factor, remember?"_

 _"Oh yes, the sand factor." He nodded. "Well there's a bed about two hundred yards from here." He glanced in the direction of their villa._

 _"Private and practical. See, I knew I married you for something other than your good looks," she teased._

 _"You're beautiful, Diane. Do you know that? So incredibly beautiful." He held her face in his hands._

 _"Well you have to say that, I'm all you've got." Her arms slipped up around his neck._

 _"For now you are." He focused on her eyes as the waves licked their bare feet. "Let's go make a baby."_

#

She didn't have a lot to say on the ride back to her hotel. He knew her mind was busy, processing the conversation with Lloyd. He kept his eyes forward, letting the radio take care of the silence between them. But after five excruciating minutes, he could take it no more.

"Well, you certainly have a fan in Gwen," he proclaimed. "She fell in love with you-and not just because you're one of her favorite authors."

"You better take good care of her." Diane cautioned. "She's amazing."

"I don't know what Joss and I would do without her. She fell right in with us from the get-go. Moves around the house like it's her own, which is exactly how it should be."

"It's obvious that she really cares about you and Joss. Talk about falling in love. She's crazy about him."

"He's crazy about her too."

"You know, that boy of yours is something else." She smirked. "Do you know he winked at me during the service? And it wasn't just a casual wink. He was straight up flirting with me."

"Well, that's because he's a Malone. We have exceptional taste."

"You've done a fine job with him, Sam." She continued. "He's healthy, happy, smart as a whip."

"Oh I've screwed up plenty of times, but I've done the best I know how." He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. "The single parenting gig is a lot tougher than I thought it would be."

"Do you have full custody?" she asked, breaching the subject of Joss's mom for the first time.

"We have joint custody, but that's just on paper. I'm the real parent. Silvia is on the go too much to be a full time mom. So, Joss lives here with me and she sees him during holidays, when she's not working, and during the summer." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Basically, she gets to pick and choose when she want to be his mother."

Diane's heart sank, hearing the sadness in his voice. It compounded the guilt she'd been feeling earlier. She didn't know how to respond without opening the floodgates of their failed marriage. The marriage that she felt one hundred percent responsible for destroying.

"I don't know what to say, Sam." She summoned the courage to be honest. "Other than she's missing out on the life of one special little man."

"Damn right." He gripped the steering wheel tightly.

Again the radio took over, buffering the quiet air between them. She stared out the window of his brand new Mercedes, taking in all the new growth in the area she once called home. Not another word was said until they pulled up in front of her hotel.

"Listen, Diane, I'm gonna make this real easy on you." He gave her a hard look, which again triggered a pounding in her heart. "Joss, Gwen, and I are flying out. Monday probably, if I can swing it. I don't want to put this off."

"To Greece?" she asked, though she already knew the answer.

"These past few months have been, well, I don't have to tell you. You've lived it all before with your father." He paused, running his hands back and forth across the steering wheel. "Joss turned six the day we brought Coach home from the hospital. I forgot all about it." He sighed. "Thank God for Gwen. But that'll give you an indication of where my head has been. I didn't even remember my own kid's birthday."

"You can't beat yourself up for that." She looked into his eyes. "You've been under tremendous stress for how long now?"

"Joss deserves some real one-on-one time. He's had to be second long enough. Lloyd's renting us a villa right near the beach. We'll stay for a couple of weeks. Let Joss play in the sand. Celebrate his birthday the right way, with a cake and candles and presents. Give Gwen a chance to decompress. That woman has worked non-stop without complaint. Hopefully it'll give me a chance to get my head right, away from all the reminders here at home."

She didn't say a word but continued to let him speak. It was clear from his tone that he was ready to close this painful chapter of his life. The sooner, the better.

"I know it was Coach's last wish that we...I mean, I don't want you to feel obligated in any way. I know you have a life and someone waiting for you." He glanced down at her left hand.

"Leslie." She focused on her ring. "His name's Leslie Meredith."

"What's he do? If you don't mind my asking."

"He's the president of Cornell."

"Where you teach?"

"Yes." She drew a deep breath, prepared for an onslaught of nepotism references.

"I see." Sam studied the diamond for a minute. "So you kept your maiden name?"

"Uh, no. I mean, we're not married."

"You're not married?" Sam asked, eyes filled with shock.

"We're engaged." Her head was beginning to throb.

"Well..." He sighed again. "I guess congratulations are in order then."

"Thank you," she said, almost as a whisper.

"You know, I, uh, I think Coach held on to this idea, this, this hope that maybe one day...you and I might..."

He stopped. She could feel his eyes drilling holes into her. The throbbing in her head was now compounded by the pressure in her chest and all she wanted was to get out of his car. She looked away, the ring spinning furiously around her finger.

 _Sam, please just stop. Please don't say it..._

 **Would love a comment if you're so inclined. Thanks for reading!**


	6. Chapter 6

_Dear Diane,_

 _I'm here in a nice suite looking out at a city I love. This trip wasn't planned - I just drove to the airport, bought a ticket, and here I am. No one knows I'm here. I like it that way. Gives me a chance to think._

 _I tried to count up how many times I've been to this town. A dozen at least. I have my regular hotel, casinos, and restaurants. But there_ _is a lot of this town I've never seen. That's why I'm here - to take in everything I can. I've never been to Hoover Dam. Can you believe it? In all my_ _years of coming here with Sam and the boys,_ _I never made the time. And shows? I've been to a couple, back when there were people here worth seeing. So here I am, ready to see a Las Vegas I've never seen before._

 _So why now, you're probably asking yourself. Why is he writing to me now? When I woke up this morning, I had no idea I'd be writing to you. In fact, I had no idea I'd be here on The Strip with so much to mull over. But that's how fast life can change. I've been having some trouble health-wise. Losing some weight. A few other issues. Nothing major, so I thought. Just getting older._

 _You know how you can say a word over and over and it starts to sound foreign? Like it has no meaning - like you just made it up in your head? I've been doing it all day. Saying it over and over, like maybe I heard the doctor wrong._

 _I have pancreatic cancer._

She stopped there and wiped her eyes. Her third time through and she'd yet to make it without tears. She could hear his voice in every line, making the task of reading that much more difficult. Several other envelopes sat unopened on the bedside table. She hadn't found the courage to make it past this first one.

"Diane, are you okay?" He stood in the doorway of their bedroom.

She responded with a nod and held the letter out to him. He crossed the room and sat down beside her, draping a supportive arm around her shoulder. It took him a couple of minutes to make it through all three pages. Diane remained quiet, staring down the stack that remained.

"Wow." He folded the pages neatly.

"I don't know if I'll ever be able to read these other ones." Another tear fell and he hugged her close.

"I really had no idea just how close the two of you were."

"He was like a second father to me."

"It's obvious he loved you very much." He rested his chin on her head. "You know, I'm glad you flew out for the service. It was the right thing to do. It's always good to have closure."

She nodded again as she tucked the letter back in the safety of its envelope.

"I've decided to go," she announced.

"Go?" he asked.

"To Greece."

"I thought you said he was taking care of it?"

"Coach never asked anything of anyone. He was happy knowing others were happy. And now, he's made one little request and I feel very strongly that I-"

"A _little_ request?" Les stood up. "Flying halfway around the world is not what I call small, Diane." He tried to remain composed.

"I don't see why this is a problem. I don't have classes now. You'll be in Chicago all week anyway. It's a perfect time for me to slip away and do this one final thing."

"Slip away?" He laughed sarcastically. "With your ex-husband?"

"It's not as if it would just be the two of us, Les. He's traveling with his young son and housekeeper. They haven't had a day of downtime since Coach-"

"Well of course, in that case..." He rolled his eyes.

"You're acting like a petulant child. A man I was close to has asked that I see him to his final resting place. Why is that so hard for you to-"

"I'm not going to let you go off with Sam Malone to scatter the ashes of someone you haven't seen or talked to in, how many years was it? Twelve? Fifteen? More?"

"You're not going to let me?" She threw Coach's letter down on the bed. "And what makes you think you have any say in the matter?

He stopped right there. The look in her eyes told him...he'd gone too far.

#

She finished up some spring semester filing in a matter of minutes, leaving her with nothing else to do. Her inbox sat empty. Her desk, now pristine and ready for the fall term. She stared at the four walls of her university office, ready for the knots inside her to go away. It hadn't gotten as ugly as it could have. Of course, she didn't give it a chance to escalate. She was in the car driving away at the first sign of trouble. Well, maybe not the first sign. Their phone conversation following her decision to stay an additional night in Boston initiated the real blow. She'd ignored his disapproval, hoping they'd smooth everything out when she got home. But deep down, she knew it would come down to this.

She studied the framed photo beside her computer screen for a while. A mutual friend had snapped the picture of them out in the snow, having what appeared to be a perfect winter vacation in Banff.

 _Oh Les...why are you making this so hard..._

Her fingers brushed against his image as she reached for the phone. Slowly she dialed, needing to hear the voice that would bring certain sympathy and perhaps clear her conscience.

"I had a bet as to when you might call."

"And I'm guessing by your smug tone that you won?"

"You've never been what I'd call forthcoming, Diane. Since you were a little girl...always in your own time." Her mother teased.

"To be perfectly honest, I haven't really had an opportunity until now."

"How was the service?" she asked.

"It was beautiful. So touching. Coach would have loved it. And there were so many people! People I haven't seen or thought about in years."

She gave her mother a detailed account of her time in Boston. She talked of Coach's letters and offered a brief summary of the only one she'd read. She made no mention of his surprising last request...or the scene with Les.

"And what of Sam?" she asked.

She doodled on the edge of her desk calendar, seeing Sam's wounded eyes in the back of her mind. "He's been through so much. He didn't want to let Coach go."

"Those two meant everything to each other."

"He has a beautiful little boy, though. That's really the only thing keeping him going."

"Sam has a son?" Helen replied, surprised.

"He didn't tell you when he called?"

"No, he didn't mention it. Of course, we only spoke for a few minutes and that was solely about Coach."

"Oh Mummy, he has a darling boy named Joss. He's six and what a character! He's a green-eyed version of Sam. I wish you could see the two of them together. Sam is a wonderful father. They're just alike." She smiled, thinking back on the boy's manly handshake.

"Was the boy's mother there?"

"No, and I didn't get much information on that front. Only that she lives abroad and works a lot and breezes in when she feels like being a mother."

"For not much, I'd say that's quite a bit."

"Sam's pretty bitter. I mean, he didn't exactly elaborate. Of course, why would he share the sordid particulars of his relationship or lack thereof with his third ex-wife with that of his second? But, it was definitely there...in his tone."

Another moment of silence fell between them. Diane's mind raced as she debated coming clean with her mother.

"I detect something other than fatigue in your voice, dear. Is there something else?" Helen asked.

"Do you remember that summer that you and Father were fighting?"

"Which one?" Helen joked.

"Mummy, please be serious. No, I'm speaking of the summer when I was about ten. You sent me to stay at Nonna and Grandad's?"

"You mean when I flew to London to see Robert?"

"Yes," she confirmed softly.

"What about it?" Helen asked suspiciously.

"Why did you go? I mean, why after all that time did you feel you needed to go see him?"

"Your father asked me that question repeatedly and I'm going to give you the same answer I gave him. I don't know why I went. I just knew that deep down, it was something I needed to do. It just felt right."

"But you hadn't seen Robert in years. You were remarried. You had a child." Diane probed. "Yet you went. Despite how Father felt, you went anyway."

"Going to see Robert Holder had nothing to do with the love I felt for your father. Or the love I felt for you. He needed me and I wanted to help him."

"But why? You didn't owe him anything."

"Actually, I owed him _everything_."

Her tone changed and it took Diane by surprise. The last thing she wanted was to make her mother upset with her too.

"One day we'll sit down and I'll tell you the whole story, but today is not that day."

"I assume you tried to explain all of this to Father?" Diane continued to push.

"Well of course I tried, but your father..." She paused. "Men are jealous, Diane. I don't have to tell you that. I was his _property_ , for lack of a better word. Not that he ever treated me as such, you understand. Why would I ever need to go back and see my ex-husband? Yes, it's true I loved Robert at one time, but there were too many...well, I'm not going to get into all that now. The bottom line is that I met your father and fell deeply in love with him. But sometimes a person has to do what they have to do even if it means hurting someone in the process."

"If you could go back in time and make different choices, would you?" Diane asked after another pregnant pause.

"I wouldn't change a thing." Helen answered confidently. "I did what I had to do. I suffered the consequences as a result, but only for a while. There's nothing your father and I couldn't work through."

She thought back to the expression on Leslie's face, staring at her in the rear view mirror as she pulled out of their driveway. He was hurting...and she hated that she was the cause of his pain.

"Coach made a final request. I didn't know anything about it until after the service, when I sat down with Sam and Coach's attorney."

"What type of request?"

"Coach asked that Sam and I scatter his ashes." She let out a big sigh. "In Mediterranean waters."

"Is that so?" Suddenly Helen could see the bigger picture, and the reasoning behind her daughter's unexpected line of questioning. "And I sense this is a problem?"

"Les and I had a big fight about it earlier," Diane confessed.

"I see. What did he have to say about it?"

"He doesn't understand why I want to go. He thinks flying out for the memorial was enough."

"And was it? Enough?" Helen asked.

Diane zeroed in on the doodles that now covered the entire right hand side of her desk calendar, seeing Sam's name written over and over.

"Is it possible for Les to fly out with you? Then you'd be together and he'd see that there's nothing going on between you and-"

"Sam's flying out first thing Monday. He doesn't want this hanging over him another day and I don't blame him. Les is leaving for a conference in Chicago on Monday, so I'd have to go by myself." Diane sighed again.

"And the thought of you alone in another country with your ex-husband..."

"He said he wouldn't let me go."

"Did he?" Helen chuckled. "Well that takes care of that, doesn't it?"

"That takes care of what?" Diane asked warily.

"Well, when a man tells Diane Chambers what she can and can't do..."

"Mummy, it's a little more serious than that." She insisted, not willing to let her make light.

"Oh, I'm one hundred percent serious." Her mother's tone was firm. "You've never let anyone or anything get in the way of what you wanted. And I believe you have the divorce decree to prove it."

The knots in her stomach ached. At times her mother had a way of telling the truth and making it feel like they were in a boxing ring. She had no reply, other than the formation of tears in her eyes.

"Diane, darling, I'm your mother and I love you."

"I know. And I love you too." She leaned back in her desk chair, a feeling of hopelessness washing over her.

"It really comes down to one thing, my dear, and that's motivation."

"What do you mean _motivation_?" Diane asked, her voice laced with curiosity.

"When I flew to out to see Robert, it was to do a job. Complete a task. I was there for him in a time when he needed me. Not romantically, though your father feared otherwise."

"So you've claimed." Diane wasn't completely convinced.

"Ask yourself, do you want to go to Greece because you feel it's the right thing to do? For Coach and his final request? Or are you determined to go because Leslie doesn't want you to go? Just to stubbornly prove a point?"

Again she had no words. Her heart beat furiously inside her and that same post-funeral headache found her once more.

"And then there's the one question that you're deathly afraid to ask," Helen said knowingly. "And perhaps even more afraid to answer."

#

 _The doctor gave me a lot of stuff to read. I left it all in the car at the airport. I don't need a bunch of pamphlets to tell me what I already know._

 _I remember when my buddy Harry was diagnosed with cancer. You never knew Harry. Best fisherman I ever knew. I went to see him a few times. He looked awful. He'd dropped down under one hundred and fifty pounds. Cancer grips every part of you. Inside and out._

 _We put Harry in the ground four months after he got the news. Four months. I can't get that number out of my head. I put fifty bucks on number four at the roulette table this afternoon, just to see what would happen. I lost. Nineteen hit instead. I'm hoping that maybe that's how many months are left for me. Praying it's not days._

 _I haven't told Sam yet. To be honest, I don't know how. He means everything to me. I wouldn't have made it without him. After my Lisa died, I was lost. Sam found me. He's my family. My son. I don't know where I'd be_ _without him._

 _I've had good life. Better than I ever thought. I'm not afraid to die. Harry said he wasn't afraid either. It's the look on the faces of those I'll leave behind that scares me. I know Sam. He'll want to fight this. Look what he's done to keep me going all these years. I know this is a game we can't win. We can't win this one. I do know that as long as I have his hand in mine at the end, everything will be okay._

She wiped her eyes again and looked down at the faded photograph of two of them. Sam insisted she keep it and it had found its way into her hands several times since her return home. It was a happy day, that afternoon in the Greek sun. Their smiles confirmed it. _My goodness, how quickly things can change..._

The photo was dropped back into the safety of her purse. The clock on the wall of her office ticked off another minute and she turned her eyes toward the computer screen. A few clicks with her mouse and it was done. One ticket from New York to Athens, with the last connecting flight out to Rhodes.

 **Wouldn't now be a great time to leave a comment?**


	7. Chapter 7

They were there waiting, three smiling faces, when she made it off the plane. The travel gods had been with her and she was able to make an earlier connection, touching down just before sunset. The flight was long and exhausting, as evidenced by her tired eyes. Sam took care of her bags but didn't say much. His son never really gave him the chance. The young boy ran to Diane the moment she stepped in view, staying right on her hip and talking non-stop as they walked through Diagoras airport.

She'd left a message on Sam's cell phone earlier, explaining the good fortune of her new arrival time. She was surprised that it had been Gwen and not Sam to call her back. They chatted for several minutes, Diane sitting alone in the terminal in Athens. Gwen's voice was cheerful and welcoming and for the first time since she'd strapped herself into the 747 in New York, she felt she'd made the right choice in coming.

In the parking lot, there was no discussion as to where she would sit. Joss pulled her right into the back seat of their rental car, giving a detailed description of everything Rhodes had to offer as they moved along the busy streets. She couldn't help but grin. His enthusiasm was contagious. But his enthusiasm was quickly snuffed when he learned that they were en route to her hotel and she would not be staying with them out at the villa.

"But it's my birthday tomorrow. Not my real birthday. My pretend birthday. We're gonna swim at the beach, build a giant sandcastle, have a piñata and Daddy is cooking shibakobs and everything." He tried to plead his case, talking a mile a minute.

"I think you mean shish-kabobs." Sam eyed them from the rearview mirror.

"I wouldn't miss your birthday for the world. I'll be there, I promise. In fact, I'm pretty sure there's a present or two in my bag for a certain birthday boy." She smiled sweetly.

"Two presents?" he asked, wide-eyed.

"Or was it three?" She caught Sam's eye again and found his smile to be just as wide as her own.

"You know, Diane, the villa sleeps twelve," Gwen spoke up. "You certainly could stay with us. You'd have an entire floor all to yourself. It'll save you having to bother with cabs or from Sam having to run into town."

"Oh, I don't know..." She looked to the rearview mirror again, but this time Sam's eyes stayed firmly focused on the road ahead. "I wouldn't want to inconvenience you. This is your family time and-"

"Inconvenience? There's onsite help. Cooking and cleaning," she announced.

"Her name is Marta. She's a real nice lady. Her pancakes aren't very good though." Joss made a face.

"We don't have to do a thing except relax and let someone wait on us," she added.

"And make my cake," Joss added firmly.

" _And_ make the birthday boy his cake," Gwen confirmed.

"Gwen said I could do the sprinkles and the candles. If you stay, you can help me. We can do it together." He looked up at her with an expression she knew well. It was the same one his father used on her for years-the one that made it impossible to say no.

"What would I tell the nice people at the hotel?" she asked him, serious. "They've gone to a lot of trouble to get a room ready for me."

"Just get my dad to take care of it. That's what he does. He's real good at it," the boy stated matter-of-factly. "He's real good at everything."

"Joss-" Sam cut him off. "Diane's had a long trip. I'm sure she's tired. Let's give her a break, okay?"

"Okay," he muttered softly.

"If she wants to stay at the hotel, then we respect that decision. Right?" Sam said with parental authority.

"Yes sir." Joss rested his chin on his hand in defeat and stared out the window.

The car was suddenly quiet. She glanced up at the rearview mirror a third time, trying to get a read on Sam. She found his eyes waiting. There was a softness about them-one that made her heart beat faster. Staying at his villa would only throw fuel on the already out of control fire burning back home. Les would never stand for it.

 _It really comes down to one thing. Motivation._

"We'd love to have you stay with us. Really." He held her gaze.

His husky tone mixed with the sound of her mother's voice in her head, making it difficult to think. She needed to make a decision. Fast. A decision she'd be willing to live with, regardless of the consequences.

"You know, I was in such a hurry to get to the airport that I forget Mr. Jammers." Diane announced with disappointment.

"Who's Mr. Jammers?" Joss perked up.

"The stuffed animal I sleep with every night. He's a giraffe and my very best friend." She gave Sam a knowing look. "I sure hope the hotel has a stuffed animal I can borrow. Otherwise, I'll never be able to sleep on this island."

"I have a stuffed animal!" Joss declared loudly. "He's a shark named Kenny. Coach gave him to me when I was a baby. You could borrow him."

"You would do that for me?" She looked down into his piercing green eyes.

"Only if you promise to stay with us." He spelled out his terms.

"I don't know." Diane debated. "You drive a pretty hard bargain."

"It's called a win-win. Right, Daddy?" The boy leaned over the front seat and gave his father a pat on the shoulder.

#

She settled into her room, a gorgeous suite on the lower level. The three story villa was simply amazing, all six thousand glorious square feet. It had everything-indoor sauna, steam room, full service gym, and theater. But nothing inside could touch the views outside. They were incredible. After studying them for a few minutes, she remembered exactly why she loved the Mediterranean coast. The stretch of beach before her was deserted. She could barely make out the dwelling closest to them. It was quiet and secluded. She knew exactly why he'd picked this particular locale. It wasn't the same area where they'd stayed years before, but she liked the privacy it afforded. A hidden slice of solitude.

They dined al fresco on a gorgeous veranda surrounded by lush gardens. A late meal of traditional Greek fare, with entertainment provided by Joss. He was quite a storyteller and there was never a lull in the conversation. Diane was taken by the vast knowledge contained inside the six year old's head and the look on Sam's face as he watched his son hold court. He'd remained somewhat quiet since they arrived at the villa, almost preoccupied. Diane wondered at one point that perhaps her decision to stay was the wrong one. But when the dishes were cleared and he offered her favorite after dinner drink, she knew everything was all right.

"Feel like taking a little walk?" he asked, placing a glass in front of her.

"Down to the beach?" Joss asked, excitedly.

"Not you, Buddy. Just Diane. We need to discuss some grown-up business. We won't be gone long."

"And we've got all day tomorrow on the beach...for your _pretend_ birthday." Diane reassured him.

"It's way past your bedtime anyway. I don't know how we're still standing as it is. Tell everyone good-night." Gwen stood and gave him a nudge.

"Will you give me an RBI when you get back?" Joss asked his father.

"You know I will." Sam hugged him.

Joss bolted around to the other side of the table, stopping in front of Diane. "You can give me an RBI too, if you want."

"Oh..." She was caught off guard by the tightness of his arms around her neck. "Of course. Nothing would please me more."

Gwen shooed the boy back inside, leaving Sam and Diane alone. Marta appeared once more, confirming the morning schedule before retiring for the night. They sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the sound of the water. Diane wondered if Sam could hear her heart beating in thunderous fashion.

"Shall we stretch our legs? Take a little walk?" he asked.

"I'd love to." She gave a friendly nod.

The moon was almost full, giving them plenty of light to find their way. It was only a couple hundred yards down to the beach and once there, she abandoned her sandals. The sand was cool but dry and felt good between her toes.

"I'll never forget the time we were down here and you landed that bluefin," he said with a chuckle.

"I'm happy to see you can laugh about it now. You certainly weren't laughing back then. I'd never seen you so upset."

"I wasn't upset."

"You weren't upset? Sam Malone, you tell lies." It was her turn to chuckle.

"Okay, okay...maybe I was a little miffed."

"A little miffed? You were well beyond miffed. You were downright furious. You cancelled our dinner reservations and refused to speak to me for the rest of the night."

"If you want to know the truth, I was embarrassed. I let that one local guy at the fishing shop talk me in to all those fancy lures. And there you were, using measly little squid. I come home empty handed and you land the record breaker of the week."

"Sixty-two pounds, four ounces," she said proudly.

"That was one helluva fish."

"It was Beginner's Luck and nothing more. If you want to know the truth, that fish almost killed me."

"You fought the hell out of it, I remember that." He laughed. "I think you slept for two straight days after you finally pulled it in the boat. Talk about going all in."

"The beginning and end of my career as a deep sea fisherman."

"Here's a fisherman's name that's been hidden in your past. Are you ready?" He looked out at the waves. "Remember Stelios?"

It only took her seconds to conjure the image of the grey-haired man, His short, stubby fingers, stringing new line through oversized reels. His skin, dark and wrinkled by years spent fishing the waters of his homeland.

"Stelios Verga," Diane said with a soft smile.

"Bet you haven't thought of him in years."

She shook her head. "No, I certainly have not. Have you seen him? He can't still be alive, can he?"

"No, no, he died many years ago. That's what I wanted to talk to you about. I ran down his son, Khristos, this morning. He's running his family business now, along with his two boys. I've arranged to have him take us out. You know, to take care of Coach's final request."

"I see." She nodded.

"It's gonna be a few days though. He has other commitments that he can't change."

"That's fine."

"I realize I could just charter another boat and we could do this right away, but I really want it-"

"No, it _has_ to be a Verga family boat. Stelios was always our guide. I believe Coach would want it that way."

"That's kinda what I thought. Is that going to be a _problem_ for you?"

"No, I don't think so." She knew exactly why he emphasized the word _problem_.

He parked on the sand and quietly watched the waves. She sat down beside him, wondering if he had anything else to add or if their conversation would end here.

"So, was it a big shouting match? Did someone storm out in a fit of rage or did you just quietly go your separate ways?"

Was he truly that intuitive or had she allowed her eyes to reveal more than just fatigue?

"A little of both," she admitted honestly, looking down at her ring.

"Well he wouldn't be much of a man, and certainly not deserving of you, if he didn't put up some degree of a fight, now would he?"

He smiled at her in such a way that she was helpless to do anything but smile back.

"No...I guess not."

"You know, he could have come with you and-"

"He's at a conference." She stopped him. "Chicago. All week."

"Have you talked to him? Let him know you made it in all right?"

"I left him a voicemail. I haven't heard back from him yet."

"Well, when you do hear from him, go easy on him, okay?" He looked at her with a familiar, knowing look. "He's just a man...and we're hopelessly flawed."

She wasn't sure how to respond. His honesty was so unexpected. It was easier now, like two old friends picking up where they'd left off twenty years before. When he turned and looked at her, she felt something pulling on her from inside.

"I never in a million years thought you'd come, Diane. What made you change your mind?"

"Coach's letters," she said with a sigh.

"So you've read yours?"

"Only one. The first one he wrote."

"You're one ahead of me then," he informed her.

"You've not read any?"

"Nope." He shook his head. "Not one."

"He was afraid to tell you," she said after a long pause. "He didn't want you to fight a losing battle."

"He was all about protecting me at the end. Hell, he's been protecting me most of my adult life." He ran his hand lightly across the sand. "From the minute I learned of the diagnosis, he never complained. Never talked about the pain or the sickness. He was determined to be upbeat around me until..." Sam's voice trailed off.

"All he wanted was for you to be there with him." She felt a lump in her throat. "And you gave him that. That and so much more." She reached and touched his shoulder warmly.

"And now that you're here, I know I can make it through this one, last thing." He held her eyes.

It was the same look he had when they locked eyes for the first time following the memorial service. She had to look away, her heart beating double time.

"Say, what are the chances a suitcase full of money will wash up here in front of us?" he radically changed the subject.

"I'm sorry, what?" Her head snapped in his direction.

"I think it was a night just like tonight, wasn't it?"

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"The bag of cash. Down in the Keys. Or was it Cabo?"

"Sam, I don't know what you're talking about."

"Phillip and Phoebe, your jet-setting sleuths. Taking one of many romantic strolls along a moonlit beach, only to be interrupted by drug dealers or a dead body or a suitcase full of money floating in the water." He smirked. "Come to think of it, they got interrupted a lot, didn't they?"

She laughed out loud, her first real laugh in days.

"You read my books?" she asked with complete surprise.

"The whole series," he admitted. "Who doesn't love a cozy mystery?"

"Gee, thanks." She rolled her eyes.

"Diane, I'm kidding. Lighten up a little. They're really good."

"So Gwen isn't my only fan, is that what you're telling me?"

"No." He shook his head. "What I'm telling you is that I think I'm entitled to a royalty or two."

"What?" she hollered. "And just how do you figure that?"

He stroked his chin, eyes shining. "Phillip reminds me an awful lot of someone I know."

"Is that so?" She bit back a smile.

"He's tall, dashing, incredibly handsome, and he oozes charm from every pore. Talk about a dead ringer. And, some of the conversations between him and Phoebe? Very familiar. Almost like I've heard them somewhere before."

"Maybe you were just swept away by my compelling prose," she teased.

"Maybe you stole some of my best material," he countered with a smile.

They held each other's eyes for a full minute without a word. She couldn't deny feeling a certain degree of tension growing between them. It forced her to look away. They sat side by side for a while, watching the water roll in and out.

"So how did you meet? You and this Ashley fellow?" he asked.

"It's Leslie," she corrected, knowing perfectly well that Sam knew not only his name, but probably his shoe size, golf handicap, and beverage of choice.

"Oh right. _Leslie_ ," he repeated the name. "He's your boss, right?"

"In some respects." Diane knew he was trying to push a button, but in a mischievous sort of way.

"Let me guess. You met at the faculty Christmas party?"

"No." She shook her head, unsure if she was willing to go down this road with him.

"He accidentally rear-ended your car in the parking lot after a Vassar football game," he teased. "No wait, Vassar doesn't have a team."

"It's _Cornell_. And if you must know, we met when he gave me his cab," she informed him.

He nodded. "Oh. How very chivalrous."

"Yes, it was," she confirmed with a nod. "And he is."

"Nice rock you got there." He took her left hand in his and held it up, carefully inspecting the ring. "What is that? A karat? Two?"

"A little under two." She quickly pulled her hand back.

"It's beautiful. Not as big as the one I gave you..." He smirked.

"I didn't realize it was a contest." She turned her nose up at him playfully.

"So when's the big day?" he asked after a pregnant pause.

"We haven't set a date. Maybe December. Maybe January."

"Well, it's always good to keep your options open."

"What about you?" Diane took a turn at getting personal. "I mean, does Joss talk to his mom regularly? Does she know you're here in Greece?"

"I let her PA know. She's got my number if she wants to reach us. She's shooting a movie right now." He slipped his boat shoes off and buried his toes in the sand. "She's in Spain."

"So she's an actress?"

"Director. Independent films. Documentaries. Stuff you've never heard of starring people you wouldn't know."

"Oh." Diane tried to picture the third Mrs. Malone.

"I'm sure it's important work. As in, important to someone. Just not important to me."

"How did you two meet?" she asked, truly curious.

"We were introduced by mutual friends."

"Really? Anyone I might know?"

"Wes and Blair Tracy." He thought a minute. "I don't think you knew them."

"Doesn't ring a bell."

"Everyone had the perfect someone for me but I was done with being set up. I wasn't even going to show. It was Coach actually who made me keep the date. He gave me the whole _be_ _a_ _gentleman_ speech-yada, yada. And the funny thing is, he never liked Silvia. All that _do the right thing_ and _you can't just leave her hanging_ backfired on him." Sam laughed. "After that, he never made comment one about my personal affairs."

"How long were you married?"

"Long enough. Let's just say that I have this affinity for smart, beautiful women and sometimes that clouds my judgment."

"Is that so?"

"And the really independent ones, in particular. _Those_ are the fish that kill _me_."

"But it couldn't have been all bad. You've got a little man up there and he's pretty incredible."

"Yes I do. And he's beyond incredible."

"Hey, what's an RBI? Joss said something about it earlier."

" _Rascal bedded in_. That's baseball talk for a tuck-in. Another Coach-ism. He had a million of 'em for Joss."

"Got it." She smiled. "I'll try to remember."

"Listen, I want to apologize for earlier. He talked your ear off from the word go. I'm really sorry about that. It's just that he's excited and-"

"It's okay." She reassured him. "He's precious, Sam. Nothing about Joss bothers me."

"We should probably head back up soon. I'm sure he's wondering what's taking us so long."

"He's got a big day on tap tomorrow. I hope he likes what I got him."

"You didn't need to get him anything. Gwen and I brought the equivalent of Santa's bag."

"Of course I did. It's his _pretend_ birthday, after all. I went the pirate route. Hat, sword, eye patch. Some pirate action figures and a book about pirates too."

He stood and held out his hand to her, pulling her up. She slipped her feet back into her sandals and they stood staring at each other for a moment.

"He'll love it. Of course, just having you here is gift enough-for all of us."

#

Back inside the villa, they parted ways at the staircase. Sam heading up one floor while she made her way down. Behind the door of her suite she quickly shed her dress, eager to wash off the day of travel and the sand that lingered around her ankles. She checked her cell phone but found that her call to Les had yet to be returned.

The water felt good against her skin and she lingered in the shower way longer than she intended. It was getting late and she knew if she didn't get into bed soon, she'd sleep through Joss's entire birthday celebration.

She searched her suitcase for her nightgown, but found that it had been replaced by something unexpected.

 _Diane,_

 _Regardless of how things stand at the moment, I still want you to go to bed with some part of me wrapped around you_.

 _I do love you,_

 _L._

His note was tucked into the front pocket of his blue pajama top. Tears began to cloud her eyes as she pictured him alone in a Chicago hotel room wearing the matching bottoms. It's just something they did. The _PJ split_ , he called it. _Oh, Les..._

A sudden knock had her scrambling for a robe. She quickly crossed the room, wiping her eyes with the towel around her neck. She opened the door to find a large, grey shark staring her in the face.

"Special delivery." Sam smiled.

"Ah yes." She smiled back. "Benny?"

"Uh, it's Kenny."

"Oh right. Kenny." She took the stuffed animal from him.

"Joss said to tell you that he likes the left side of the bed."

"I'll see that he's afforded every comfort."

"Listen, I want you to sleep in tomorrow, as late as you like. Joss and I are gonna do some wade fishing in the morning. We won't pull out the cake and balloons until later. Just make yourself comfortable."

"Thanks. I will."

He leaned against the frame of the door. The look on his face told her he had more to say. She waited, watching his eyes.

"I want to thank you...for earlier," he said.

"I didn't do anything."

"Yeah, you did. We had a real grown-up conversation. I haven't done that in a while and it felt damn good. And you listened. Not everyone knows how to do that."

"I haven't always known how, but I hope I've gotten better over the years."

"You know, no one really knows the Coach part of my life. Not the way you do." He dropped his gaze to the floor for a moment.

"We made some memories, didn't we?" Diane said with a smile.

"Some of the best." His blue eyes returned to hers, showing that same honesty she observed on the beach. "And I'm so glad I don't have to do this without you."

 **Tell me you love these two as much as I do!**


	8. Chapter 8

"Did I wake you?" he asked.

"What time is it?" Her words were heavy and slow.

"Your time? About eight o'clock. It's midnight here."

"Oh." She strained to read the numbers on the clock.

"I got the message that you made it alright."

"Uh, yes, I did." She yawned.

"No problem making your connection?"

"No problem whatsoever. Even made an earlier flight than what I booked."

"Well, that's good." He hesitated. "Did you get my note?"

"Yes, I did." Her fingers ran down the buttons of his pajama top. "Your arms were around me all night."

"I put your nightgowns in the big zipper pocket of your suitcase, just in case, you know, in case you were still mad as hell at me."

"I found them. And I'm not mad as hell." She sighed. "Disappointed. Hurt. But not mad. Not anymore."

"Don't play the hurt and disappointed cards. Not when I'm thousands of miles away with no way to make amends. I'd rather have mad as hell."

"If you wake me up this early again, you'll get your wish."

"How's Greece?" he asked, his tone now more relaxed.

"Hasn't changed. Still beautiful. How's Chicago?"

"Same as it ever was. I wish I there with you though."

"Me too."

"How's your room? I bet you have an incredible view."

She quickly sat up, taking inventory of the suite. Her heartbeat shot from a calm walk to a full sprint when her eyes found the grey stuffed shark on the pillow beside her. _Kenny!_ She didn't know if her jet-lagged mind could handle the world-class shouting match that would erupt if she told him the truth. She'd tell him. Of course she'd tell him...in time.

 _He said room...not hotel...he said room...so technically..._

"It's very nice," she mumbled, immediately weighed down with tremendous guilt. "How's yours?"

"Standard business traveler. Nothing special. No ocean views, of course."

"Well, it's just for a few days."

"I just want to be back home with you. I hate the way we left things. I'm so sorry I acted the way I did, Diane. It was wrong. I was wrong. I've had some time to really think about what you're doing and I hope you'll forgive me."

"I'm sorry I walked out. That was wrong of me. It's just that I knew we were about to head down a road that I didn't want to travel."

"You had every right to walk away. I was acting like a jealous jerk, and to a woman that can only translate into one thing-a lack of trust-which is crazy because I trust you completely. You've never given me a reason not to."

Her heart was pounding as she fought an enormous internal battle between what was right and what was easy. She wanted to tell him the truth-but he just kept talking and soon she lost the opportunity and the nerve.

"It's like you said, why would he show up twenty years after the fact to sweep you off your feet? But I'm a man. We get a little crazy at times, you know? The whole territorial thing. My woman. His turf."

 _Men are jealous, Diane..._

"I know this has nothing to do with your relationship with him. You're there to make a man's last wish come true. And I commend your dedication. It's a noble thing and I disgraced it by acting like a fat braying ass." He paused a moment. "I hope you'll forgive me."

"Only if you promise to forgive me." She looked down at her engagement ring. "For everything."

"Diane, I love you. I hope you know that."

"I know you do." She swallowed hard, trying to choke back the guilt. "I love you too."

"When are you going to, well, I mean is, will you take care of Coach's ashes today or..."

"It's gonna be a few days. There's a local guide-an old man named Stelios. He and Sam were close at one time. He died about fifteen years ago and now his son runs his business. He's going to take us out on his father's boat."

"I see. A bit of symbolism there then?"

"It's the only boat on the island worthy of the task, yes."

"I'm sure Coach would be really touched."

"I think he would." She agreed.

"So what's on your agenda for today? Lounging by the pool? Sightseeing?"

"It's Sam's son's birthday. He's invited me to a party they're having at the beach."

"Well that sounds like fun. I'm sure you'll have a good time," he said with a marked uptick of support.

"He's a darling little boy. He actually turned six right before Coach died. They didn't really get a chance to celebrate then, so this is their way of making up for it. His _pretend_ birthday, as Joss calls it."

"Well, go enjoy yourself."

"I will."

"Wear plenty of sunscreen. I don't want you to burn that beautiful skin."

"Nothing less than SPF 50, I promise."

"If you want to call me later, just to say goodnight..."

"I'll try." She said.

"If you can't, I understand. I'll give you call tomorrow morning. About this same time? Is that okay?"

"That's fine. Maybe my body clock will be regulated by then."

"Don't change a thing about that body-clock or otherwise. I like it just the way it is."

"I'll do my best," she promised.

"Will you do me a favor?" His voice was more serious.

"Anything."

"Remember two things-that I love you and I trust you."

#

They split the day between the pool and the beach, enjoying simple pleasures. Sandcastles. Kites. Water guns. Waves. Gwen joined in for a few minutes here and there, but for the most part it was just the three of them. They only took one indoor break, and that was to put the finishing touches on Joss's picture perfect birthday cake. Diane was exhausted, slightly sunburned and out of gas. She barely had enough energy to shower and gear up for Round Two of dinner, cake, and presents.

Sam took care of the entire menu personally, preparing his signature steak kabobs and a few other dishes while Joss played sous chef. Diane and Gwen were ordered to relax. They didn't argue, each stretched out on a chaise lounge with a glass of chardonnay. Diane watched him through the large glass doors, amazed by his energy to dance back and forth between the kitchen and the grill. But every time he looked at Joss, she found her answer. Working for his son's happiness wasn't really work.

Again they dined outside, surrounded by dozens of balloons in the birthday boy's favorite shade of blue. A light breeze ushered in sunset, gently blowing a brightly colored piñata hanging from a beam overhead. Astrud Gilberto's samba sound drifted out from the living room stereo, mixing with Joss's voice as he highlighted his favorite happenings of the day. By the time Gwen delivered the cake, the sun had disappeared behind the sea. Diane watched Joss's eyes, full of joy as his father lit each candle. They sang to him, with Sam adding his own silly flair to the traditional lyrics.

"Time to make a wish." Sam moved his chair closer.

"Make it a good one," Gwen encouraged.

Joss thought a moment. Diane grinned, trying to imagine the host of images that might be running through the boy's head. But he did something no one expected. Carefully, he pushed the cake over in front of his father.

"I think you should make the wish, Daddy. You need it more than me, now that Coach is gone."

Sam caught Diane's eyes, completely taken aback by his son's gesture.

"Aw Joss, that's the nicest offer anyone's ever made to me. But I'm afraid it doesn't work that way. Birthday magic only works for the birthday boy. And today that's not me," He shook his head and pushed the cake back. "It's you."

"Oh." Joss looked up at his father, suddenly disappointed.

"It's okay, Buddy. I'll get to make a wish on _my_ birthday." He draped his arm around Joss's shoulder. "But this one's for you and I want you to make it really special. Anything you want."

Joss thought once more, smiling when he made his decision. He took a deep breath, blowing all six candles out at once. Everyone clapped and Joss surprised her again, giving her another flirtatious wink just as he'd done at the funeral. Gwen noticed immediately and nudged Diane under the table.

Joss ripped through his gifts in record, delighted with each new discovery. When he finally revealed the last present, they were all swimming in a sea of discarded wrapping paper. He gave hugs all around and thanked them before setting up a base for his new loot on the fireplace hearth. Quietly he entertained himself while Gwen cut the cake. Sam and Diane each took an end of the long sofa and watched Joss play.

"Oh Gwen, this is fantastic," Sam remarked after taking his first bite.

"It really is. It's absolutely delicious," Diane concurred.

Joss stopped just long enough to gobble down a small slice but was eager to return to his new treasures. Gwen sat down on the floor beside him, stealing his new pirate hat for herself and joining in his make-believe world. The CD on the stereo had started over and Diane found herself humming along. The room was dim and tranquil and she knew she wasn't going to last long.

"Another glass of wine?" Sam asked.

"No way," she said definitely. "If I was any more relaxed..."

"Wiped out?" He grinned.

"A little," she confessed.

"I gotta hand it to you, Diane. You were right there with him all day. You didn't slow down once."

"It was a fun day. I haven't really let go like that in...well, let's say it's been a while."

"He loved it." He looked over at his son, sword fighting with Gwen. "Probably his best birthday ever."

"How is he still going?" Diane studied him, noting that he didn't appear the least bit tired.

"Just give it a few minutes. That rich cake is gonna hit him and he'll be out. I bet he sleeps until noon tomorrow."

"He may not be the only one." She grinned.

"Diane, if you're tired, go on to bed."

"Well, I don't want to be the first to bail on the celebration."

"I think we're about done." He surveyed the damage. "I'll get this paper trail picked up and then I think I'm gonna call it a day myself."

"No, Daddy," Joss interrupted. "I don't want to go to bed yet. I'm not tired."

"You're worse than tired. You're wired. You've got all day tomorrow to play. It's time to say goodnight." He stood and began scooping up handfuls of wrapping and ribbon.

"Yes sir," he said reluctantly.

"I bet I can pick up more paper than you," Sam taunted.

"Bet you can't."

Joss shot around the room, grabbing every scrap of wrapping paper in sight. Diane smiled, watching their friendly competition. When the living room was restored to pre-party condition, Gwen proudly declared Joss the winner.

"Your old man is losing his edge." He gave his son a playful poke in the ribs. "Now scoot on upstairs and brush your teeth. I'll be up in five for your RBI."

"Daddy, can Diane give me my RBI tonight?" he asked.

He looked over at his ex-wife. "Well, I don't know. You'll have to ask her."

"Diane, would you give me an RBI tonight?" Joss asked.

"I would be honored." She smiled warmly. "But you better mind your daddy. Get those teeth brushed and I'll be right up."

#

He was waiting patiently when she poked her head in his room a few minutes later-lamp lit and new pirate book in hand.

"Brush your teeth?" she asked.

"Yes ma'am." He flashed a wide, toothy grin.

"I brought you something." She pulled the stuffed shark from behind her back.

"Kenny!" He held his arms out for it.

"I have to be honest with you, Joss. Kenny didn't have a very good night. He tossed and turned a lot. I don't think he much likes sleeping down there with me." She sat down on the edge of his bed. "I think maybe he should stay up here with you."

"Then how will you sleep?"

"Well, I thought that maybe I'd sleep alone tonight, just to see what happens. Maybe I'll sleep fine. And if I don't, then we can try to work something out tomorrow night, okay?"

"Okay." He seemed satisfied with her plan.

"Did you have a fun day?" she asked.

"It was great."

"What was your favorite thing?"

"I liked building the sandcastle with you and Daddy. You're a really good builder."

"I used to build lots of sandcastles with my father when I was a little girl."

"Here in Greece?"

"Oh, no. I didn't come to Greece until I was grown. No, I built sandcastles at my grandparents' beach house on Long Island. My father taught me all sorts of tricks. He was a master sandcastle builder."

"What's your dad's name?"

"His name was Spencer. He passed away when I was young."

Joss grew quiet, slowly digesting the new information. Diane could see the wheels spinning in his mind, like he was trying to work through a very complex equation.

"Diane, what's your last name?"

"Chambers," she answered.

"What's your middle name?" he asked.

"Elizabeth, same as my cat."

"So your name is Diane Elizabeth Chambers?" he asked, somewhat confused.

"That's right."

"Do you have any nicknames?"

"You'll have to ask your Auntie Carla about that. She found great pleasure in assigning me a host of names over the years."

"Coach gave me a special nickname. Little Man. That's what he always called me."

"Coach only did that for people he really cared about."

Joss thought a minute. "I think he loved my daddy the most."

"You know what? I think you're right. They had a very special bond. I know they loved each other in much the same way you and your daddy love each other."

"Did you know that my daddy doesn't have a mom? It's kinda like me and how I don't have a mom."

"But you do have a mom." Her heart began to beat a little faster. Joss was steering them into unknown waters. "She just can't be with you all the time like your daddy can."

"Oh I'm not sad or anything." He quickly reassured her. "Silvia is just real busy with her movies. She's a director. But she doesn't know any real famous people like Woody or Buzz."

She felt her heart sink. _He calls her by her first name._ She looked into his green eyes, but surprisingly found no real signs of sadness.

"When _do_ you see your mom?"

"I'm going to her house in a few weeks. She lives in Italy. Her house is huge. It's probably bigger than this house. And it has a swimming pool too, just like this house. But it's not on a beach."

"Well, that sounds like a really nice place."

"Silvia and I have a lot of fun. She takes me to dinner and big parties. I get to wear a tuxedo just like James Bond. She even lets me sit on her lap and drive her car. She has to work the pedals though. But not on big roads. Just the small ones by her house."

"I see." Diane nodded her head.

He looked down at the cover of his new book for a moment. Diane held her breath, unsure what he would throw at her next.

"Coach didn't have a nickname for Silvia. He just called her Silvia, like me and my dad."

"So you don't call her Mom?" Diane pressed, curious to hear his answer.

"Naw. She's not like a real mom." He flipped casually through the book. "Not like you are."

#

Their lips touched and instantly she felt a rush. It didn't take long to move from living area to her darkened bedroom. She pushed his jacket off his shoulders, letting it fall without notice. Running her hands across his chest, she stopped at the first button on his shirt. She struggled for a moment, desperate to feel the warmth of his skin. With a smile, he pulled her hand away and finished the task. She watched as he freed each button; smiling as her skirt fell to the floor beside his jacket. She slipped her hands up under his shirt, walking her fingers across his back. Again she found his lips and kissed him deeply. They stood together for several moments, lost in each other, before she quietly took his hand and led him to her bed.

He lowered her against the softness of a dozen pillows and in seconds, his hands pulled her grey Cornell sweatshirt over her head. Her skin was soft against his fingertips and he explored every line of her body. A tiny sliver of light coming from the hallway illuminated his face. Though he said nothing, his expression spoke volumes. She looked up at him, gently tracing the line of thick, dark brow. He kissed her lightly before his lips traveled down her cheek. He stopped at her neck, burying his head in her hair. She whispered his name as his warm breath filled her ear.

She was still locked inside this dream when she felt his hand upon her shoulder. It startled her and she turned over to find the silhouette of his petite frame.

"Joss? What's wrong?" she said, filled with alarm and now fully awake.

"I don't feel good."

She sat up and focused on the clock beside her bed and found it was almost three in the morning. He was breathing heavy and she could feel the heat radiating from his body. A hand to his forehead confirmed her suspicions.

"Let's get you back upstairs."

She lifted him up into her arms and made the two flight trek to the top floor. She could see the door to Sam's suite was closed. She hesitated a moment, but continued on to Joss's room. Carefully she placed his limp body on the bed. She reached for the well-loved stuffed shark and nestled it protectively beside him. With a light touch, she brushed wisps of dark hair back away from his face and smiled down at him.

"I'll be right back, okay?"

The boy nodded silently, his eyes now closed. She slipped into his bathroom for a minute and returned with a cold, wet cloth. With a loving hand, she held it against his forehead. He looked so small in the queen-size bed. His lips were dry and she could feel his body beginning to shake. She knew his temperature was high and it didn't take long for his fevered body to steal all the coolness from the cloth.

"Sam!" she called out into the quiet night, her voice echoing off the marble floors.

Within seconds she heard a door open and fast footsteps coming down the hall. He entered the room with wild eyes, trying to take stock of the scene before him.

She looked up at him with eyes full of worry. "He's burning up."

"Keep the washcloth cold. I'll see if I can find a thermometer."

His words were direct but not filled with panic. He disappeared from the doorway and she could hear him taking the stairs two at a time. She ran the washcloth under the tap once more and returned to his bed. Within a couple of minutes Sam returned, followed by Gwen.

He sat down cautiously on the opposite side of the bed. "Hey Buddy, Daddy's here. And Gwen too. We have to take your temperature, okay?"

He slipped the thermometer between the boy's parched lips and held it in place. Joss never moved or said a word. Diane looked at Gwen apprehensively as she started to move back off the bed.

"No, you're fine. Stay there." Gwen held out a small bottle filled with thick, pink liquid. "Give him two teaspoons of this. I'll go get him something to drink."

Diane took the bottle and filled the dosing cup. She watched Sam from the corner of her eye, seeing concern but not alarm on his face. The thermometer beeped and Sam held it at arm's length, trying to read the small, digital display.

"I can't read this damn thing." He handed it to Diane.

She held it up toward the bathroom light. "One-oh-one point eight."

"Can you help me? We need to sit him up." Sam slid his arm underneath the boy's body and Diane assisted from the other side. "Joss, we need you to take this. It's the bubble gum flavored medicine, the kind that you like."

Joss opened his eyes and looked up at Diane. He raised his warm hand and held it against the back of hers, swallowing the medicine without complaint. Gwen returned with a chilled water bottle. Sam managed to get a few sips in him before letting his head fall gently back against the pillow.

"What was his temp?" she asked.

"Almost one-oh-two." He looked down at Joss, smoothing his hair back with a loving hand.

"Well, hopefully you caught it in time and we won't have a repeat of last Christmas."

"I didn't catch it. Diane did." Sam looked up at her.

"He just wandered down to my room. I don't know how he managed to make it down two flights of stairs. He was a limp noodle when I carried him up here."

"I can sit here with him if you two want to go back to bed," Gwen offered.

"I got it," Sam reassured her.

"Diane?"

"I'll stay for a few minutes. You go on back to bed."

"Holler if you need me." She gave Sam's shoulder a pat.

"Will do. G'night Gwen," Sam said.

She left them alone again and the room fell silent. Diane made a third trip to the bathroom to re-wet the cloth. When she returned she found Sam spooned up against his son, wearing a peaceful expression. She resumed her spot and put the cloth back in place. There was no sound for several minutes.

"Thank you," he whispered with a thankful smile.

"I'm so sorry he's sick. Poor little guy."

"You should try to get some sleep. I can take it from here."

"You're sure?"

"We're fine. You go on down."

"Alright." She inched her way gently off the bed. "Please come and get me if you need me."

"I will. It's probably just a twenty-four hour thing. It happens."

"Diane..." Joss whispered in a weak voice.

"I'm right here." She leaned over him.

"Will you...read me...the pirate book again?"

"Not now, sweet boy. In the morning. I promise." She touched his head tenderly. "Right now you need to rest."

"Please don't go." He held a shaky hand out to her.

She looked at Sam, gripped by something in his blue eyes. Something that roped her soul and dragged her back in time, to a place she liked to pretend didn't exist.

 _"I was wrong, Sam, I know that. That's why I stopped taking them two months ago, I swear!" Her world was crumbling...sadly by her own design._

 _"And your sudden bout of guilt is supposed to make it all better? Is that what you think? It's been a year, Diane! A year full of nothing but your lies!" He turned away from her and threw the green plastic packet against the wall with every ounce of force he could summon. "To think that you let me go to the doctor to get checked. Like it was my goddamn problem!" he screamed._

 _"If you would stop screaming at me for one minute and-"_

 _"Do you have any idea how it feels to be lied to by the person you trust most?" He cut her off. "I go into the bathroom for a couple of aspirin and find my wife's birth control pills! Pills that she supposedly quit taking over a year ago!"_

 _"I said I'm sorry!" Tears overtook her and she could barely get the words out._

 _"Your words mean nothing to me. Nothing! All this time. All this 'we'll try again next month.' It was always you consoling me, wasn't it? And it was all an act. A sick, self-serving act." His words cut her to the core._

 _"I wasn't ready." She found her voice again, shouting back. "Did you ever consider that fact? My god, Sam, you can push and push and push, because you see something you want and there's no stopping you. But did you ever consider for even a second that maybe I wasn't ready? Or that maybe I never wanted children to begin with?"_

 _"You're not worthy to be anyone's mother." Tears fell from his eyes and he slammed the door of their bedroom behind him._

"Diane..." Joss whispered her name again, pulling her back from the darkest scene of her adult life.

"Shhh." She curled up next to him, forcing the painful past from her mind. "How about I stay here until you fall asleep?"

The boy closed his eyes, signaling his approval. He searched for her hand, lacing his little fingers through hers when he found it. Sam's eyes were still on her. They stared at each other, Joss's small body between them, for what seemed like an eternity. Her heart felt as though it might ignite, beating so that she was sure he could hear it. Thoughts were rushing through her head like a swollen river-a picture of a handsome man in the forefront. It was then she realized she was lying there in his pajama top, her bare legs exposed. Sam never looked away and with every second that passed, the image of Leslie Meredith grew hazier and hazier in her mind. He never said a word but smiled and closed his eyes...covering their hands with his own.

 **Are you feeling it yet? Let me know with a comment or two?**


	9. Chapter 9

"How's the patient?" Gwen asked.

"Marta's soup was a hit. He finished off the whole bowl." Diane announced as she placed a large tray on the kitchen counter. "They're in Sam's room now watching a movie together."

"How's the nursemaid then? You've done a week's worth of step-aerobics going up and down those stairs today."

"What?" Diane brushed a stray hair from her face. "Oh, no, I'm fine."

"Well, I think you deserve a little break." She pulled a bottle of wine from the chiller. "What do you say we take advantage of that view for a while?"

"That sounds wonderful."

They stretched out on the same pair of chaise lounges on the veranda. The air was cooler than it had been that morning and the breeze relaxed her almost instantly.

"It's too bad the whole world doesn't have a view like this."

"Isn't that the truth." Diane agreed. "Is this your first time over here?"

"On Rhodes? Yes. But my late husband and I vacationed in Athens years ago. I fell in love with everything Greek. We only came the one time though."

"How long ago did you lose your husband? If you don't mind my asking, I mean."

"Oh I don't mind. He's been gone almost five years now. Ironically, he was taken by the same cancer as Coach."

"Really? My goodness. I am truly sorry for your loss. From what I understand it's a very aggressive type of cancer. And for you to have the strength to willinging experience this heartache a second time, well, I commend your bravery."

"I think it's helped me to help Sam, having gone through the same thing, you know. I wouldn't have survived without the love and support from my family and friends. I'm glad I can give something back to Sam and Joss."

"He's told me many times that you've been his saving grace through everything."

"Well, I try to be there when he needs me and stay out of his way when he doesn't. That was Coach's number one rule. _Know your place, Gwen_ , he said."

"You know, I've been meaning to ask you...how did you and Coach meet?"

"Actually, we were all on the same cruise about a year and a half ago. I was on a girls trip with my sisters and he was there with Sam and Joss. One night he asked me to dance and we were thick as thieves from that point on."

"So you were pretty _close_ then?" Diane hinted.

"We were close, but just friends. It was never romantic."

"Well, it's obvious that he saw something very special in you - something the rest of now see too." She smiled warmly.

They sipped their wine and moved on to other topics. Beach reads. Travel. Her grandchildren. At one point she retrieved her phone and shared several pictures of a beautiful brother-sister duo.

"These are my daughter's children. You met her at the reception. Caleb is twelve. Cassidy is nine," she said proudly.

"Gwen, they're gorgeous." She studied the image for a moment. "How nice to have them all with you in Boston. Are they your only grandchildren?"

"No. My son Kevin has a seventeen year old boy. Joshua. They live in the Atlanta area. He owns a landscape architecture firm there. I don't think I have any recent photos of him." She swiped her screen with a frown. "He reminds me a lot of Sam actuall - my son, I mean. He's a single dad too, raising a son by himself."

"Well, I know you're extremely proud and you have every reason to be. You have a very beautiful family."

"They're pretty special."

The conversation quieted as Gwen turned her face back toward the water. Diane took advantage of the moment and closed her eyes...but the silence didn't last long.

"You never had any children?" Gwen pried.

The final rays of light off the water were suddenly replaced by a stark hospital room, as Diane's mind jumped back in time. The memory was still fresh...and cut like a dull knife.

 _"Mother?" she whispered._

 _"She'll be right back. I'm here, darling, and you're going to be alright." He gently brushed her hair back off her forehead._

 _"Can we...go...home now?" Her words were slow as she spoke with a heavy tongue._

 _"Not yet. Dr. O'Connell said in a day or two."_

 _"But I want to..."_

 _"Shhh. Please don't try to talk. Just close those beautiful eyes of yours and rest." He gave her hand a tender squeeze._

 _"Is...the baby...alright?" Her voice trailed off as she bounced in and out of consciousness._

"Diane?" she said again.

"Uh, no." She shook her head. "No children."

"And your fiancé? Does he have kids?"

"Uh, no. He was married before too, but they never had children."

"Oh, I see," Gwen said with a nod.

Diane sensed there was more coming. The obvious question she felt the woman was dying to ask. She closed her eyes once more and waited, ready for whatever query she made. _What happened between the two of you? Why the divorce? You seem so perfect for one another, what with the witty banter and all._ She knew them all, they'd been asked so many times before.

"You would have been a wonderful mother, if you don't mind me saying so."

"Well thank you." Diane smiled, touched and somewhat surprised by this comment.

"And I'm not the only one who thinks so." Gwen winked.

"Really? Do tell."

"A little bird told me all about a certain, _special_ birthday wish."

Diane laughed. "What did this little bird say, exactly?"

"Evidently, this little bird is concerned that you don't have any children of your own. And he also pointed out that he doesn't have a _real_ mom, so he's thinking that maybe you two could fill these _voids_ for each other."

"What?" Diane smiled widely. "He said that to you?"

"The truth? He asked me if my feelings would be hurt if I moved _out_ and you moved _in_." The woman grinned.

"He didn't." Diane laughed.

"He most certainly did." Gwen gave a nod. "He's got some big ideas about you, so just be warned."

"He talked about his mother last night when I tucked him in." Diane recalled their conversation. "I must admit I'm rather intrigued by the fact that he calls her by her first name."

"Ah yes..." Gwen sighed. " _Silvia_. I've noticed that too."

"Have you met Joss's mother?" Diane asked, her inquisitive nature showing.

"No. But Coach told me all about her."

"Sam mentioned that Coach wasn't a big fan."

"You know Coach. Sweetest soul on planet earth. Coach got along with everyone, but she was a different story. He couldn't understand why she didn't want to be in Joss's life. You know how Coach felt about his Lisa. He have given anything to have more time with her. It pained him that Silvia could be satisfied with a week here and there."

"After spending time with him, I've been wondering the same thing myself."

"Well, the bottom line is that some women just aren't cut out to be mothers. Obviously, Silvia is one of those women."

"Silvia is one of what women?" Sam strolled onto the veranda, interrupting their girl talk.

"The kind who doesn't know a good thing when she sees it." Gwen said to him matter-of-factly.

"Amen to that." Sam gave her a wink.

"How's Joss?" Diane asked.

"Asleep." Sam sat down on the end of her chaise. "I think he's down for the count."

"And the fever?" Gwen inquired.

"I think he's over it."

"Thank goodness." Diane sighed with relief.

"Sam, can I get you anything? Club soda or iced tea? It'll be awhile before Marta starts dinner." Gwen asked.

"Actually, there's an errand I'd like to run. And I'd like you to go with me, if you feel like it." He turned to his ex-wife.

"Of course," she answered.

"I just got off the phone with Khristos. He can take us out tomorrow afternoon. I thought we might run into town and pick out a wreath. You know, to take with us when we..."

"Aw Sam, I think that's a lovely idea." Diane gave a nod of approval.

He eyed his watch. "If we leave now we can be back in time for dinner."

"Well don't rush. Joss isn't eating obviously. That leaves just me. And there's plenty left over from last night. In fact, if you want to grab a bite while you're out, that would be fine with me," Gwen suggested.

"We could do that." He looked to Diane, trying to gauge her response. "Diane, what do you think?"

"I say we go where the wind takes us," she motioned with a flourish of her hand.

"It would be a waste for Marta to make another big meal. We're stockpiled from last night. And neither of you have set foot outside today. Take a break. Go stretch your legs and knock around town for a bit. I can handle sick bay," Gwen added.

"You sure?" he asked her.

"You two have earned an evening out and a little grown-ups only time."

#

They found a parking spot on a side street just around the corner from a tiny flower shop. The main square was full of bodies, locals and tourists gearing up for the evening hours. They had no time to spare before shopkeepers closed their doors for the night. As luck had it, they made it into the floral shop just two minutes before closing. A brief explanation of what was needed was given to the store owner. He agreed to have a wreath delivered to the dock the following day. Sam reached into his pocket for a his wallet but Diane pushed his arm away.

"Sam, please allow me. You've done so much already and I'd really like to get this for Coach."

"Okay," he consented without argument.

With the task complete, they set out on foot in search of a quiet restaurant. They strolled by quaint shops, most now closed for the day. They did stumble across a corner market, still bustling with business. They darted inside to soak up a minute's worth of free air conditioning. Diane spied a beautiful wooden ship, hand carved and bearing a tiny canvas sail.

"I know a certain someone who would love this." She picked it up.

"And it would be kindling wood in about two minutes flat." Sam informed her.

"No it wouldn't. I've seen how he is with his things. He's not like some kids, hell bent to destroy everything in their path. Joss takes good care of his toys."

"No, I guess you're right. He does take pretty good care of his stuff."

"I really want to get this for him, Sam."

"Diane, he's got a stack of toys and games back at the villa that a circus dog couldn't jump over."

"He doesn't have one of these." She inspected the boat from every angle, impressed with its elaborate detail. "And he's going to be so sad tomorrow when he finds out we're going out on a boat without him."

"So a boat for us and a boat for him, is that it?"

"Exactly."

"Give it here." He sighed and held his hand out. "I'll get it."

"No." She pulled it back protectively. "This is a gift from me. I'll get it."

"You already took care of the wreath."

"Don't worry, you'll get your chance." She smiled. "Dinner's on you."

Long lines and too much noise kept them walking for several blocks in search of a suitable restaurant. After a chat with one of the locals, a tiny alley behind a seafood market led them to a quiet, out-of-the-way cafe. They were seated immediately and Sam ordered a glass of wine-one he knew was her favorite-and a Pellegrino for himself.

"You remembered?" She smiled.

"How could I forget? You downed almost an entire bottle by yourself that one night when we were at that resort on Maui."

"Oh. Right." She felt her face start to blush. "You're never going to let me live that one down, are you, Sam?"

"C'mon." He teased. "We've all been there. Don't look so embarrassed."

"Why would I be embarrassed? I don't recall a sign that said _No dancing on the tables_."

"For the record, you weren't on the table. You were standing on your chair, doing the hula and leading the whole bar in a rousing chorus of Tiny Bubbles."

She looked away, fighting to bite back a grin. "And do you know what makes that entire scene so pathetic?"

"What?" he asked with a chuckle.

"The fact that you _let_ me."

He looked into her eyes. "Diane, if there's one thing I've learned in my fifty-something years, it's that you can't stop a determined woman from doing anything."

Though his eyes said otherwise, she couldn't help but wonder if his comment had a darker, underlying meaning.

"And if she's had a drop too much of the grape?" She kept the mood light.

"Three words." He grinned and raised his glass. "Duck and cover."

Their conversation flowed and for a while they forgot everything, Coach and illness, and focused on the lively tales of their past. She couldn't remember a time when she'd laughed more.

 _Sam Malone, you are still the world's greatest storyteller._

"You know, I noticed something. Phillip and Phoebe went to a lot of the same places we did."

"And we're back to your royalties once again." She rolled her eyes.

"But they never came here, to Greece." He continued. "Why?"

"It's funny you should mention that." She ran her finger around the rim of her wine glass. "I did have a book planned, what would have been the fourth and final book of the series, but it never happened."

"Why not?"

"I went back to work."

"And opened your design firm in Charleston?"

"How did you know about my firm?"

"Ran across a spread about you in magazine one day while I was sitting at the dentist waiting to have my teeth cleaned."

"Did you?"

"I may have even smuggled the copy out in my jacket."

"Sam Malone, you did not!" She grinned.

"I didn't steal it." He insisted, his blue eyes shining. "I _borrowed_ it...for an extended period of time."

She shook her head and took another sip of wine.

"So when did you close up shop for Cornell?"

"Three years ago."

"When you met Les?"

"Les and I met four years ago, but only moved up to Ithaca when he became president of the university. It's the only Ivy League college with a design school, so we thought, why not?"

"Interior design, huh?" He smirked.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she questioned.

"Oh nothing, nothing. I'm just surprised, that's all. Why not Judeo-Christian French poets of nineteenth century Russia or something like that?"

She shot him a look. "While not outside my wheelhouse, I happen to love what I do and I happen to be damn good at it."

"Oh god, I remember decorating our place. All the endless discussions about this sofa or those drapes. You drove me crazy, you know that, right?"

"I will admit that at times I was rather conflicted, but what you didn't understand-" she started to defend herself.

"Conflicted?" he interrupted with a laugh. "Diane, you were downright insane. You changed the painting over our fireplace no less than twenty-five times and repainted the dining room just as many. How did you ever manage to satisfy your clients when you couldn't make decisions for your own home?"

"Well it's easy. The game changes when you're spending someone else's money." She winked.

"You really enjoy it, don't you?"

"I finally found the creative outlet that suits me best. When I formed my design firm in Charleston, I was respected and in demand and busy. Those were things I needed at that time in my life. Then I met Les. It was his idea that I give teaching a go. It made sense in an ironic sort of way. I've spent so much of my life in college lecture halls. I started teaching and well, I just fell in love with my students."

"I'm sure your students are crazy about you too." His husky voice took on a serious tone. "I mean, how could they not be?"

Diane reached for her wine glass once more, her heart skipping along at a furious pace. They sat quietly for a bit, the first real uncomfortable moment of the evening. Thankfully the waiter appeared, with offers of dessert and Ouzo. Diane shook her head, unwilling to commit to either. Sam asked for the check and in minutes they were back on the street.

Their animated chatter remained at the restaurant and they walked in silence for a while. Diane caught her breath several times, seeing their reflection in dark store windows. It was surreal to be back on the island where it truly started for them. Even the passage of time couldn't undermine the fact that, side by side, they were an incredibly striking couple. It was almost comical, she thought, the number of strangers who broke out with huge smiles when they walked by. It had always been that way. There was a sort of magic about them...and it lingered even now.

"Hey listen, Diane, I have a small confession to make," Sam spoke.

"What's that?" she asked.

"I passed on dessert because I'm holding out for another piece of Joss's birthday cake when we get back." He clapped his together in anticipation.

"I'll slice and serve if you'll pour the milk," she offered.

"Done," he confirmed.

They were just a few streets from the car when they began to get swallowed up into a large crowd. Lights and loud techno music blaring from a club on the corner shattered their quiet evening. Bodies darted around them and instinctively Sam reached for her hand. With a firm grip he lead her through the mob, shouting just to be heard.

"They're playing our song." Sam hollered. "What do you say?" He motioned toward the door of the club.

"I don't know, Sam. It's after nine." She yelled, checking her watch. "Maybe we should go back. He might be running fever again and -"

"And Gwen would have called me if there was a problem." Sam smiled. "But you're right, we should probably head back."

As the crowd thinned, he loosened his grip and eventually released her hand. It was just a gesture of protection. She knew he would have done the same if it had been Gwen there with him. So why was her heart suddenly working overtime again?

Easy conversation continued on the ride back. Yet, every topic seemed to somehow find it's way back to Joss. Diane balanced the box containing the wooden ship on her lap, eager to see his face.

"Do you think Gwen is still up?" she asked.

"I doubt it. She's not much of a night owl. Of course, Joss could be wide awake and raring to go, fully recovered. He may have forced her to walk the plank by now."

"You think those action figures I got him will fit inside this?" She held the boat up once more.

"You know, I'm gonna have to pull rank on you here." Sam glanced and caught her eye.

"Okay," she said warily.

"You've gotta hide that 'til in the morning. If he's awake and sees it, then it's all over. He'll want to jump right in the pool with it. Or the bathtub at least. I'm not up for a splash fest at this hour."

"How about I leave it in the car until the morning?" she suggested.

"That sounds like a good plan."

They drove on along the coastline. The wind had picked up and she watched the whitecaps out the window. She moved her head back and forth, the pain still present despite several glasses of wine.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing."

"Something wrong with your neck?"

"Oh, I just slept wrong I guess." She rubbed the back of her neck.

"It's called _sleeping in the same bed with a six year old_. Does it every time. What time did you bail out?"

"A little before six."

"I made it till five. I thought about waking you up, but the two of you looked so peaceful."

"He's an angel, Sam," she said, thinking back to the wink he gave her, the glow of his birthday candles highlighting his face.

"He sure is," he agreed.

The villa was dark when they pulled up. He parked around back and they entered the house via the veranda doors. Only the lamps in the living room remained lit. Sam spied the cake on the large island along with two small plates and two forks, just waiting for them.

"Gwen knows me too well."

"She certainly does." Diane ran her fingers along her sore neck once more.

"If you'll do the honors, I'll go up and check on Joss."

"Give him a hug for me," she said with a smile.

He disappeared upstairs and she went to work. When he made it back down, just a few minutes later, she had cake and milk ready.

"Everything okay?" she asked.

"He and Gwen are crashed out in my bed."

"I guess he's okay then."

"He's fine." He reassured her. "Here, I brought you these." He held out two small blue pills. "For your neck."

"Thank you." She took them from his hand.

"In here or outside?" He picked up the plates.

"It's such a nice night, I vote outside."

She followed him out and took her same chaise. Sam sat down across from her, happy to stretch out and listen to the surf.

"Gwen is some fabulous baker," Sam remarked after the first bite.

"Gwen is some fabulous everything."

"Hey, what were you two talking about earlier? She said something about Silvia, and not knowing a good thing?"

"Last night when I was up with Joss, he was talking about his mom. Only he called her Silvia."

"Yeah, about that..." He put his fork down. "I know I should probably do something about that, but he doesn't want to call her mom or mommy or momma or any variation thereof. I've tried to get him to. I guess he's always heard me and Coach call her Silvia and he just followed suit."

"He told me it was because Silvia is _not really like a mom_. And that she takes him to big parties and fancy dinners and lets him drive her car."

"Oh God." He shook his head. Diane could see the disgust in his eyes. "You know, Joss has been with me exclusively since he was two years old. He doesn't really know her. Not like that. She's a friend to him. They have a great time when they're together but it's more like camp. And for Silvia, he's more of an accessory than a son."

"Oh Sam..." Diane's heart broke at hearing more of the truth.

"She and her brothers lived in and out of boarding schools. They were raised by nannies. She never had a real relationship with her mother, so it's no wonder she doesn't know how to take care of Joss. She parents the way she was parented. As much as I try to remind myself of that fact, it doesn't make it any easier or make me less angry."

"I can only imagine how difficult it's been for you to play a double role. But Sam, you have done an amazing job with him. Amazing. That little boy has so much love and respect for himself and others. And you - you've lead by example and you've created one special young man."

"When Silvia and I got married, I knew my time for kids had come and gone. I just wish he'd come into the world under different circumstance and not the way he did." He looked away, but not before she caught the painful expression on his face.

"So things were already bad then?" she questioned.

"I'd already filed for divorce. We were just waiting on a court date." He paused and took a deep breath. "Of course, she'd moved out of the house by this time. She hated Boston. Anyway, one afternoon, she stopped by the house to pick up a couple of things she'd left. A dress. A coat. I don't remember exactly. I came home and had no idea she was even there. We talked for a while. It was surprisingly civil. We even laughed a few times. I guess because the pressure was off, hell I don't know. One thing led to another, as the old saying goes and before I realized it, I was waking up beside her in our bed." He let out a heavy sigh.

"Oh." Diane nodded, moved that he trusted her enough to share the most private details of his life with another woman. "She was still your wife, Sam. You were still legally bound to one another."

"Legally is really the only way we were ever bound." He watched the waves for a minute. "It's not a story I'm proud of. The end result, however, is what I focus on. I got Joss. That's all I think about."

The same quiet that found them at the restaurant returned. She didn't fight it, but took a cue from him and turned her attention out to the sea. Wave after wave rolled in, turning the sands of the world over and over again. Had she made other choices in her life, would she and Sam be sitting together now?

"Diane?" he whispered softly after several minutes of silence.

"Yes?" Her eyes connected with his.

"Does it ever bother you that...you know...well, I'm not talking about us specifically...but what I'm trying to say is that...do you ever regret not having children?"

She observed the tender expression in his eyes-that same look that caused her to fall and fall hard.

"I have a lot of regrets but I've always believed that everything happens for a reason. That includes children given and children taken away."

"What do you mean?" He detected sadness in her voice.

"I lost a child," she whispered.

"What? When was this?" He sat up, swinging his legs in front of him.

"A few years ago." She sighed. "A miscarriage."

"You and Les?" he asked.

She nodded. "Evidently miracles do happen, even for women in their forties." She tried to smile. "I was sick for days. Les thought I had the flu. But I knew." She looked away. "Deep down, I knew."

"What happened?" he asked with genuine interest.

"We'd gone to stay with his parents for a long weekend. I will still in my first trimester. Les and I went riding early one morning-his father was an accomplished equestrian in the seventies and eighties, thus they have dozens of first rate horses. Anyway, I was on a new mare his father had just purchased. She was a little skittish and the ground was wet. A flock of dove flew out from behind this fallen tree. The horse got spooked and down I went. The next thing I know I'm waking up in the hospital. "

"Oh God, Diane, you could have been seriously injured. Paralyzed even." His face showed true concern.

"I've fallen from horses dozens of times over the course of my life, back in the show jumping days of my teens." She sighed heavily. "I learned that middle aged women don't hop back up quite as quickly."

"But you could have died." His voice echoed with disbelief.

"I was very lucky, I know that." She twisted her ring around her finger. "The doctor said the fall didn't cause the miscarriage. Said that it was just a coincidence and that my age was more to blame."

She paused a moment and shook her head.

"What?" Sam searched her face for meaning.

"You want to know the irony of the whole thing? When I initially found out I was pregnant, my first thought was to end it. I actually went to a clinic. Filled out all the paperwork. I still can't believe I did it." She fought to keep herself composed. "It's not a story I'm proud of." She borrowed his line.

"But you didn't go through with it."

"No, I didn't." She sighed. "I sat inside this little waiting room, hiding behind my sunglasses and praying I didn't see anyone I knew. I can still see the faces of the young girls around me. Oh Sam, they were terrified. Here I was, old enough to be their mother and just as scared. I remember this one young girl. She came in with her parents. She couldn't have been more than fifteen. Sixteen maybe. She was absolutely beautiful. She cried for the longest time, begging her father to let her have the baby. But he just sat on the chair beside her and said nothing. It made me physically sick. I mean here I was, an educated woman in my forties. I had everything to offer a child - a home and the financial means and a man who I knew would be happy. And looking around at those young girls with nothing, I realized that I would be making the biggest mistake of my life. I got up and walked out and told God I was sorry."

"So it was just fear? Fear of doing all this at your age?" He still struggled, trying to make sense of it all.

"Honestly?" Her eyes were fixed on his. "At that time, I didn't know if I cared for Les enough to raise a child with him."

 **Come on...don't make me beg.**


	10. Chapter 10

_"It's my turn to make a confession," she said, her heart beating a rapid rhythm._

 _"What's that?"_

 _"I saw you about ten years ago."_

 _"Where was this?" Sam asked, thoroughly intrigued._

 _"At the airport."_

 _"Really? And you didn't want to come up and say hello?"_

 _"You were surrounded by what I suspect was a Little League team, all wanting autographs. The whole airport was kind of a zoo, honestly."_

 _He smiled. "I can't believe you were there. I wish you would have hung around."_

 _"Well, you were busy and I had a plane to catch." She sighed. "And I didn't know if you were there alone or..."_

 _"I was." He locked on her eyes. "Alone, I mean."_

 _The conversation stalled and Diane held her breath. She wanted to know. She needed to know. At what point had he stopped condemning her? Would he truly have been happy to see her again? Ten years after the fact? Her neck still ached and she wondered when the pain pills he'd given her would kick in. She dropped her head for a moment, needing to stretch out tight muscles and avoid his eyes._

 _"You're really hurting, aren't you?" he asked, leaving his plate on the end of his chaise and moving over to hers._

 _"Oh I'll be alright," she insisted._

 _"Turn around and let me see what I can do. They don't call me Magic Fingers Malone for nothing, you know," he directed with a flirty tone._

 _"No really, it's okay." She tried to resist._

 _"Diane...turn around," he insisted._

 _His hands found her shoulders and gently he began to massage away the soreness. His fingers were strong and cool and felt good as he worked his way up and down her neck. She couldn't help but tense up more, overcome with conflicting emotions. He sensed it instantly._

 _"This only helps if you relax a little," he whispered in her ear._

 _"Right." She closed her eyes and focused all her energy on letting go. "Sorry."_

 _"Why didn't you tell me earlier that you were in this much pain?" he asked._

 _"No one likes a complainer," she joked._

 _"No one likes a martyr either," he shot back._

 _Diane fell silent, stirred inside by the feel of his hands on her skin. He hadn't touched her this way, this intimately, in over twenty years. As good as it felt, she knew it was wrong. Her heart ripped through a hundred beats in seconds and she pulled back away from him._

 _"Uh, really, it's okay," she said, barely able to get the words out. "Thank you."_

 _"I'm sorry." His eyes reflected a kind of truth she hadn't seen in years._

 _"Oh, it's okay, really. I'll be fine."_

 _"No." He shook his head. "I mean I'm sorry." He looked down and touched the ring on her finger._ " _I'm so sorry...for everything."_

 _Years of lying in bed, envisioning this exact moment, had not prepared her. Yet here they were, alone in front of the very sea where they'd promised to love, honor, and cherish so long ago._

 _"It's getting late." She avoided his statement, afraid of bringing the past to the surface. "And I'm really tired."_

 _He took her hand and held it tightly. "Diane, I don't want you to leave this island without knowing that." He met her eyes again._

 _"I know..." She squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry too."_

She ran as hard and fast as her legs would carry her on the wet sand. Sleep had not come easy; their final exchange of the night stuck on repeat in her mind. And now with dawn breaking on the horizon, she fought to keep her thoughts in the present. She had a job to do. In a few hours, she and Sam would take a boat out in the middle of the Mediterranean, making Coach's final wish come true. Soon she'd make the journey back to Les and her quiet, uncomplicated life. With each stride, it became more and more clear: she was mentally prepared for one event...and deathly afraid of the other.

The villa was silent. She slipped her running shoes off at the door and tiptoed inside. She smiled when she saw the wooden boat on the kitchen counter, waiting patiently for a pair of little hands to bring it to life. Behind the closed door of her room, she caught her reflection in the mirror. Her face, still flushed from the hard run. Her wet shirt was tight against her body, and the sweaty ends of her hair held fast to her neck and forehead.

 _"I can still see the way that purple wrap dress hugged your body. You were soaked to the bone. But the way the wet fabric was stuck to you, and the ends of your hair, all stuck against your neck..."_

She thought of the recent conversation with Les and the memory he shared of their very first meeting. She'd only spoken with Les a couple of times since her arrival. She knew he was trying hard to give her space and show her that he trusted her.

 _You've already screwed up one relationship with your lies, and yet here you are again._

 _What would he say right now if he knew the truth?_

 _Enough is enough, Diane._

 _The time for playing games is over._

#

 _There are only two kinds of people in the world, Sam. Those who take opportunities_ _and those who wish they had. I'm ending my life with everything I want and need - a real family. You gave that to me, you and Joss._

Sam stopped reading. He stared up at the ceiling for a while, thinking back on the day he told Coach his marriage to Diane was over. He knew where the old man's thoughts were headed. He'd hinted at it in his other letters. And now, with the final note in his hand, he wiped his eyes and read on.

 _A man needs balance in his life. Something warm and something to cool - like fire and water. That beautiful boy of yours, he's your water._ _Always rushing around you. Always moving and changing. That's what children do. They cool your soul and quench your thirst. But a man needs warmth too. A fire he can sit by. A place where he can stop and reflect and feel the flames. You had that fire once. I know because I saw it. It_ _was there in your eyes, every time you looked at her._

"Daddy?" a soft voice called from the hall.

"Hey Buddy." Sam motioned to the boy to join him.

"You slept in my room." He jumped up on the bed beside him.

"Because you and Gwen fell asleep in mine." He poked his ribs playfully. "How are you feeling?" He pressed a hand against Joss's forehead.

"I'm fine." He pushed Sam's hand away.

"What are you doing up so early? And where's Gwen? Is she still asleep?"

"I don't know." He noticed the redness in his father's eyes. "Daddy, what's wrong?"

"Well, I was reading a letter from Coach."

"Is it a sad letter?" he asked.

"A little."

"Did Coach write all these letters?" He pointed to several envelopes on the nightstand.

"Yep." He nodded.

"Are they sad too?"

"Not all of them. Some are funny. You know Coach was great at telling funny stories. A lot of them are about you." He smiled. "You know he loved you so much. You were his Little Man."

Sam folded the last letter and returned it to the stack with the others.

"Diane's dad's name was Spencer. She said he was real good at building sandcastles."

"I'm sure he was."

"Did you know him?"

"No I didn't but I knew her mom."

"Was she nice?"

"Very nice."

"What's her name?"

"Helen. She's quite a character."

"Daddy, how come you and Diane got divorced?"

"Well..." He looked into his son's eyes. "It's kind of a complicated, grown-up thing."

"Gwen says she's getting married to another man."

"That's right, she is."

"Who?"

"I don't know him. His name is Leslie Meredith."

"Leslie?" Joss thought a moment. "That's a girl's name."

"It can go either way." Sam informed him. "It's just not very popular as a boys name today."

"Is he a businessman like you?"

"No, he's the president of the university where Diane teaches - kind of like a principal."

"Oh." The boy nodded. "Is he mean?"

"No, I don't think so." He tried not to laugh.

"Does he have any kids?"

"Well he might, I don't know." Sam shook his head. "Man, you sure are full of questions this morning."

"When she gets married her name won't be Diane Chambers anymore, will it?"

"Uh no, I guess it won't." His heart began to beat faster. "She'll be Diane Meredith."

"So she'll have another name that starts with an M, like when she was married to you."

"Yeah," He looked at his son, impressed by his intellect. The thought had never occurred to him and it slammed against a favorite memory. "I guess she will."

 _"What do you think about her?" Sam asked the old man._

 _"Aside from my Angela, she's the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on."_

 _"I'm gonna ask her to marry me, Coach." He smiled at the small framed photo of her, the one he'd swiped from the guest bedroom at her mother's house._

 _"Well if you don't, I will," Coach teased._

"Daddy?" Joss's voice pulled him back from the past.

"Hmm?"

"How come you don't love Diane anymore?"

His heartbeat increased even more and he thought back on the honest moments they shared under the Grecian sky just a handful of hours before.

"I care about her a great deal."

"Do you think she knows how to make pancakes?" He asked after a long pause. "As good as Gwen?"

"Joss, nobody knows how to make pancakes as good as Gwen. But I can say with a hundred percent certainty that Diane does a few other things to perfection." He said with a reflective grin.

#

She leaned against the rail, sipping coffee and looking at the waves. It was the first time she'd ventured out of her room all day, aside from her early morning run. The late night conversation with Sam had drained her, leaving her tired and confused. After showering, she returned to bed and spent the morning hours reading and drifting in and out of sleep. Her neck was much better, but a heavy pain lodged itself above her right eye and she prayed that it wouldn't turn into a migraine.

Gwen checked in on her, concerned that she'd missed breakfast. She returned only one other time, with a tray around lunch time. She forced herself to eat a few bites, knowing she'd need something to fuel her through the course of the afternoon. Joss tiptoed down one time for a hug, the new wooden boat in his hands and an enormous smile on his face. He sat with her for a few minutes, talking in his six year old animated way. She felt her heart break, knowing that their time together was coming to an end. Now she was dressed and ready and waiting on Sam. She looked at her watch. He'd have to hurry if they were going to make it to the boat on time.

She didn't hear him and jumped when she felt his hand on the back of her neck.

"Oh, you scared me." She turned to him.

"I'm sorry." He apologized. "How's the neck?"

"Much better."

"Are you feeling okay?" He asked. "You've been a recluse all day."

"I went out for a run this morning. I haven't done that in a couple of weeks and well, I paid for it."

"Listen, if you're not up for this, I could call Khristos and -"

"No, no." She shook her head. "I'm fine now. I rested all day."

"Are you sure?" He gave her a sideways look. "You don't think you're coming down with what Joss had, do you?"

"No, I think it's a case of a middle age body and a youthful mindset. I just pushed myself a little too hard, that's all."

"I've got a cab on the way. Should be here any minute. I don't want to leave Gwen here without a car."

"That's a good idea."

"And if you're up to it, I told her we'd get dinner on the way back. I didn't want them waiting around on us, since I'm not sure what time we'll be back."

"I'm not coming back." She announced.

"What?" He thought he misheard her.

"I called the hotel. They still have a room available."

"Oh."

"And since the hotel is just down from the marina, I thought that you could just drop me off, you know, when we get back."

"If that's what you want." He tried to hide his disappointment.

"Do you think we have time to drop off my luggage before?" She asked.

"Khristos has cleared the whole afternoon for us. There's no rush. We have plenty of time to stop."

"I left my bags by the front entrance." She turned and looked out at the view one last time. "I need to say goodbye to Gwen and Joss."

"He's gonna be crushed when he finds out you're not coming back." Sam rested his arms on the railing. "Gwen too."

"I've had a wonderful time." She turned back to him. "With all of you."

"You know, we could meet up with you in the morning, maybe have breakfast together. Do some sightseeing."

She touched his arm. "It's better that I be on my own from this point on, Sam."


	11. Chapter 11

They stared into each other's eyes. She found his filled with equal parts understanding and disappointment. She knew if she wasn't careful, she'd second guess herself. Thankfully, the honk of a horn signaled the end of the moment and Sam turned back toward the villa.

"I guess that's our ride," he said. "We better get going."

They walked back inside. Gwen and Joss were side by side on the long leather sofa, their eyes fixed on a movie on the flat screen above the fireplace.

"Can you pause that for a minute, Gwen?" Sam asked. Diane noticed a sudden heaviness in his tone.

"Is the cab here already?" she asked, checking her watch.

"Yeah, we're about to take off." he said. "Diane wanted to say goodbye."

"Goodbye?" Gwen said with surprise. "Where are you going?"

"To my hotel."

"So you're not coming back here at all?" She stood and embraced Diane warmly.

"I'm afraid not." She looked down at the boy, seeing sadness in his eyes. "So you better give me an extra tight hug before I go."

He ran to her, his tiny arms strong around her waist. She bent down to his level and held him, burying her face in his soft, dark hair.

"Promise me you'll take good care of your daddy and Gwen, okay?"

"Please don't go." He held her around the neck.

"I have loved being here with you." She loosened her grip and looked into his bright green eyes. "But it's time for me to go."

"We didn't put my new boat in the ocean yet."

"Next time..." She brushed his hair back with loving affection. "I promise."

#

A cab was waiting when the boat arrived at the dock. He held the door open for her, ushering her inside the vehicle with his hand on the small of her back. He'd found many ways to touch her throughout the day. A light brush of his hand. A gentle tap on the shoulder. Finally, the soft embrace they shared when their difficult mission was done. It had been a long, emotional day. A long week for that matter. But somehow they found the strength to fulfill a touching last wish...one that had her questioning the last two decades of her life.

The ride to the seaside cafe was short with very little conversation en route. Once inside, she excused herself for a few moments alone in the Ladies Room. Standing in front of the mirror, she noted how little the restaurant had changed since her last visit. The same chipped tile vanity. The same faded oil painting hanging on the wall. The same woven basket of hand towels beside the sink. It was as though not a day had passed. But upon close inspection of herself, the passage of time was clear. Days spent inside a lecture hall had brought little color to her skin. Her hair lacked it's youthful luster. Tiny lines were beginning to form around her eyes. The newlywed who once smiled at her reflection in the very same mirror was now an older, yet not necessarily wiser, woman. A woman beginning to doubt every twist and turn her life had taken since.

 _What the hell are you doing?_

 _Surely you don't believe history can be rewritten with a few kind words and the perfect sunset, do you?_

 _This is Sam Malone we're talking about._

 _The man who swore he could never trust you again._

 _He's in mourning. You're mistaking his kindness for something else. It's been an emotional week and you're both off-kilter._

 _The fact that you're having a silent conversation with yourself in a bathroom mirror proves you've lost your mind._

She ran her fingers through her windblown hair and gave her lips a quick swipe of clear gloss. She found Sam waiting at a table overlooking the water. He immediately smiled and stood upon her return. She took a deep breath and smiled back.

"This place hasn't changed a bit." He looked around.

"Bathrooms haven't been updated."

"Let me guess. Mediterranean rustic?"

"All the way down to the chipped tile vanity," she confirmed.

"I, uh, wasn't sure how long you'd be, so I ordered for us. I hope that's okay."

"Fine," she answered with a polite smile, her eyes pulled out to sea.

She kept her gaze focused on the waves until the waiter arrived with their dinner. Neither had said a word to this point and it seemed they both lacked any real appetite. Diane picked at her salad while Sam did nothing more than push his food around his plate. Was it the pain and finality of their completed task that weighed down on them...or something else? There was definitely something there. Things. Words. So much that needed to be said. But who would dare to begin? Were his thoughts centered solely on Coach? Or was he, like her, letting his mind wander into dangerous, long deserted places?

"Would you care for some dessert this evening?" The waiter returned.

"Interested?" He scanned her eyes.

"I don't think so. I'm really not very hungry."

"I think we'll pass. Just the check please, Amigo."

 _Amigo._ She hadn't heard him address anyone that way in so long. It made her heart flutter a little, the way he addressed others. Never rude or condescending. Always confident. And always with a smile. It was one of the things that initially drew her to him.

"Hey we're gonna need a cab too. Would you mind calling one for us?" he asked.

"Should be no more than two or three minutes." The waiter nodded as he placed the bill on the table.

"Oh, I thought we might walk back from here if that's alright," she suggested.

"Cancel the cab." Sam smiled as he signed the credit card receipt. "The lady has requested a stroll."

"Well, when a beautiful lady wants to walk on a evening like this, you don't say no." The waiter laughed.

They moved in silence along the deserted stretch of beach back up to her hotel. Her mind was a gnarled mass of thoughts, one twisting cruelly into another. Soon he'd be back to his life in Boston. She'd return to the New York and into the arms of another man. Was their window of opportunity disappearing as quickly as the sun on the Greek horizon? Or were the emotions of the day playing tricks on her, making her believe in a magic that died years before?

"You know what I miss most?" he called out to her.

"His laugh?" She guessed.

"No, I'm not talking about Coach." He stopped walking. "I'm talking about you."

She was just a few paces ahead of him. Her insides froze despite the last warm rays of sun on her neck. Sure, she could keep walking, completely ignoring his comment. But their time together had been filled with so many truthful moments. It left her no other option but to turn around and face him. She'd known the moment was coming. It had been there all day. Several days in fact. And the serious tone of his voice was something she'd never forgotten.

"The way you say my name." His weary eyes locked on hers with total sincerity. "God, I miss that."

She felt herself shiver. Not because the wind had suddenly picked up, but because she couldn't deny it any longer. Time spent alone with the man whose name she'd once shared had awakened feelings she could have sworn were dead.

"You know something? I was afraid to come back here." He turned his eyes back to the waves of the Aegean. "Coach was right. We were our truest selves on this island, once upon a time. We were happy. At least, I was happy."

The strong breeze silenced their conversation. For several moments she heard nothing but the beat of her own heart. One minute she was living quietly in upstate New York. Spending her days teaching. Spending her nights with her soon-to-be husband. And now she was standing on a beach in the shadow of her former husband, overcome with feelings she wasn't supposed to acknowledge. Suddenly the ring on her left hand felt very heavy and unusually out of place.

"You're not really going to marry him, are you?" His eyes found hers once more.

"I reaaly don't think we should-" she began her protest.

"Look me in the eye and tell me you love him - I mean _really_ love him. Look at me and tell me he's your whole world." With his eyes firmly on hers, he caught a strand of her golden hair, dancing in the wind, and tucked it safely behind her ear.

The space between them disappeared and now their bodies were almost touching. Just that one simple gesture was enough to send her reeling into the past. The twenty year divide between them was rapidly vanishing and she felt strangely like Alice, ready to chase him down another rabbit hole.

"Sam..." The wind took her voice. She shook her head, afraid of what might come out of her mouth.

"That's it." His arms encircled her waist and he pulled her close. His lips hovered over hers as he spoke. "When you say it just like that, I'm done. I always was."

She wasn't sure what was happening. Minutes before they were sitting inside their old favorite haunt, quietly reflecting on the emotional events of the day. She'd helped fulfill Coach's last request. She'd honored his memory...and confused her head and her heart in ways she never anticipated. The feel of Sam's gentle hands on her neck and shoulders the night before hadn't prepared her for this. Now she was standing on the beach, locked inside her ex-husband's embrace. Diane drew a sharp breath, her emotions now in overdrive.

Sam smiled as he caught another strand of her hair. "I can't believe I'm really here with you again after all this time."

She never had a chance to respond. His lips found hers and he kissed her tenderly. It was soft and sensual and filled with something she hadn't truly known in years - deep, encompassing love. It had never left her, that feeling of being home whenever she was in his arms. There had been other men. Not many, but a few. Yet none of them touched her the way he had. Even so, as good as it felt she knew what she was doing was wrong.

"We can't do this." She tried to wriggle free from his grasp. "This is wrong."

"Does it feel wrong?" He pulled her closer.

"That's not the point. I came here to do a job." She tried to plead her position.

"A job?" He released her, a confused look in his eyes. "So Coach was just a job to you?"

"No, that's not what I mean." She shook her head, overcome with dozens of emotions. "I mean, I came here to fulfill a man's last request. I never meant this...or for us to..."

"For us to what?" Sam pressed.

"I'm engaged. There's someone else in my life now."

"But is that what you really want? Because I don't think it is."

She didn't answer right away, which was an answer in itself.

"I can't lie to him. Not again..."

"And what about the lies you've been telling yourself? Are they the same ones I've told myself for the last God knows how many years? That I'm better off without you? That I never really loved you?" The look in his eyes was intense. "I keep telling myself that if you truly loved him, you'd be with him right now. That you wouldn't have come here at all. I know you've felt it all week, just as much as I have. I've seen it in your eyes. Tell me you haven't thought about it."

"Stop it, Sam. Stop it right now!"

"Tell me you haven't laid awake in bed thinking about the fact that we were just a staircase apart."

 _Yes, Diane, tell him! Tell him how you've prayed for this moment for years. Tell him that just two nights ago, you were giving yourself to him without reserve in your dream. Tell him how much you still love him._

 _The real games being played here are the ones you're playing with yourself._

 _You still love him, Diane._

 _You never stopped._

"Sam, please!" She looked into his blue eyes and knowing that she wanted nothing more than to run away from the rest of the world with him. "It's not fair to him. He's done nothing but love me."

"Maybe what Les doesn't know won't hurt him?"

The half smile on his face struck a deep and painful chord in her. She was shocked, amazed that he could suddenly be so flip.

"I cannot believe you just said that!" She backed several feet away from him, clearly upset. "It's that exact line of thinking that cost me our marriage!"

She turned and marched down the beach with quick, purposeful steps. She held in her tears, determined not to cry in front of him. She couldn't walk fast enough to get away from him though. He caught up with her in a few seconds and with his hand on her shoulder, spun her back around to face him.

"I'm sorry." He could see the confusion in her eyes. "The last thing I want to do is push you away from me."

"No, I'm the one who is sorry." She confessed, a tear made a trail down her cheek. "I don't know what I'm doing anymore."

"Aw sweetheart, don't cry. I don't want our last night together to be a repeat of a fight from two decades ago."

He took her hand and they sat side by side on the sand as the sun made its descent. He waited patiently for her words to make their way to the surface. He knew they would, they'd been so honest with each other.

"All the trust we'd built." She squeezed his hand but continued to keep her eyes on the ocean. "I ruined it. I never meant to hurt you. Never. I was selfish and stupid and -"

"And it wasn't just you." He stopped her. "I tried to force you into something you weren't ready for. You reacted how you reacted. It wasn't right or wrong, it just was. I should have worked harder to understand. I was hell bent on hurting you because you hurt me. I just wanted you to feel it as deeply as I did."

"I can't tell you how many times something good would happen and my first thought would be, _oh I can't wait to tell Sam_. And then I'd remember - there was no more us. That's why I created Phillip and Phoebe. So we could still exist on some remote level - even if just inside the pages of some silly novel. All those sweet moments they shared? That was us."

"You know, I picked up the phone hundreds of times to call you, but I was afraid that after everything that happened..." He shook his head.

"When was this? Before Coach got sick?" she asked.

"For years, when I finally grew up and realized my part in what happened and what I'd given up. After the way I acted and all the unforgivable things I'd said to you, I knew there was absolutely no chance that you...or that we could..." His eyes were sharp on hers.

They sat in silence for a while, each considering the wasted years between them.

"Coach was right." Sam broke the silence.

"About what?" she asked, heart still beating out of control.

"There are only two types of people in the world. Those who take opportunities and those who wish they did."

Sam released her hand and stood. He took several steps toward the water's edge then stopped. Hands thrust deep in his pockets, he watched the waves in silence. She studied him from behind, the wind blowing through his hair.

"You've still got two days left on the island." He turned back to her. "Don't spend them by yourself at the hotel. Please come back out to the villa - back to your old room."

She could read the hope in his eyes. She wondered if he could see the doubt in hers.

"And make things more complicated?" Diane gave him a hard look.

"Like that's even possible," he teased with a grin.

 **Go on...leave a comment or two.**


	12. Chapter 12

Gwen stood at the end of the bed and watched the sleeping boy. With his eyes closed, he was the spitting image of Sam. She had come to love him as she did her own grandchildren. Though she hated to wake him, she knew the payoff would be well-worth his protest. A tiny foot peeked out from beneath the linens and she gave it a gentle tickle.

"Joss..." she spoke his name softly. "It's morning. Time to wake up."

The small foot made a hasty retreat beneath the covers and he turned away from her. She continued to poke and shake, and he continued to protest with an assortment of noises, clearly expressing his displeasure. She knew she'd have to try a different approach.

"Okay, I'll leave you alone. I guess you'll just have to find out about your surprise later." She turned and made her way back to the door of his room.

"What surprise?" He sat up, rubbing his eyes.

"Nevermind. I know you're tired and not ready to get up. Forget I even mentioned it." She bit back a grin.

"Tell me!" he squealed with a smile.

"No, no, you'd rather sleep the day away. It's fine."

"Please, Gwen?!" he begged.

"If you really want to know, throw on your swim trunks and meet me downstairs." She closed the door behind her, suppressing a giggle.

Sam was waiting in the kitchen, apron around his midsection and a large spatula in one hand.

"Morning, Champ." He smiled warmly at his son.

"Where's the surprise?"

"Surprise? What surprise?"

"Gwen said there was a surprise." He quickly scanned the area.

"I think Gwen's messing with you, Joss. I am making pancakes though. Maybe that's what she meant."

The boy flopped down on a chair at the breakfast table and sighed heavily. "I thought it was a real surprise."

"Well, I think I saw something that might interest you down on the beach this morning."

"What?" He perked up a bit.

"I'm not sure. Maybe you should go check it out."

"By myself?" the boy questioned suspiciously.

"Why not? You're old enough. I mean, you did just have a birthday, didn't you?"

The boy smiled widely and took off like a shot, out past the pool and down the path toward the beach. As soon as his bare feet hit the sand he saw his surprise, sitting on a blanket beneath a large umbrella.

"Diane!" he yelled with delight as he ran into her waiting arms.

#

They spent the entire day in the warm sunshine, just the three of them enjoying each other's company. To any passerby they appeared to be the perfect family. Sam was attentive to both and Diane seemed to anticipate their every need. At seven o'clock, Joss ran out of gas and crashed on her favorite chaise on the veranda. Diane sat on a chair across from him, watching the waves in the distance. She was contemplating a nice long shower when Sam appeared, bottle of something in his grasp.

"I called ahead and made reservations for a sunset. Shall we?"

Diane eyed the little boy. She opened her mouth to speak, but he lovingly cut her off.

"He's fine. Gwen's pouring herself a glass and then she'll be right out." Sam smiled as he covered his son with a beach towel.

They shed their shoes at the end of the path and walked down toward the water. There wasn't a soul in sight. The waves had turned slightly chilly and she shivered when they ran across her feet. The next moment she felt the warmth of his arm around her shoulder. It was the first time all day he'd touched her. After the kiss that had happened the night before, they'd both steered clear of any overtly physical activity. Yet she wondered if that moment had made its way to forefront of his mind as many times as it had hers. It had taken hours for her to fall asleep as she remembered the feel of his lips on hers for the first time in forever.

They continued on down the beach, talking about nothing in particular. Every time they came across a piece of driftwood, he'd stop and hurl it into the surf. Each time he did, she noticed that he bit his bottom lip in full concentration, his eyes focused on the horizon. He had a strong profile. And he had a great arm too - still Major League caliber, despite his age. She knew there wasn't much that Sam Malone couldn't do. Strong. Athletic. And even more handsome than the day she'd married him.

The hollow, tired eyes she met at Coach's funeral had thankfully reclaimed their sparkle. Her heart beat quicker with the thought that she might be a teensy bit responsible for some of their shine.

They kept walking until the expansive beach house was just a tiny speck on the landscape. The sun continued a rapid descent and Sam suggested they park and enjoy the scenery. A young couple moved into view, along with a gentleman taking photos of his dog. Together they watched them in silence for several minutes. It was easy - sitting beside him and sharing a quiet moment. Everything between them seemed to have a level of comfort that she'd never experienced with anyone - not even Les.

" _She keeps Moet et Chandon in her pretty cabinet_..." he sang, holding up the bottle. "Interest you in a drink?"

"Aren't you forgetting something?" she asked.

"Like?"

"You don't drink," she informed him.

"One little nip won't kill me, Diane," he reassured her.

"Absolutely not. If you want to fall off the wagon, that's your business, but I will not be the catalyst to -" she began to preach.

"Relax, will ya? It's sparkling grape juice." He held out the bottle so she could inspect the label, which she did with a satisfied smirk.

"Aren't you forgetting something else?" she questioned.

"What now?" he sighed heavily.

"Flutes? Solo cups? A receptacle of some kind in which to pour this fine vintage?"

"Aren't you forgetting I'm Sam Malone, magnificent pagan beast? I drink straight from the bottle, ma'am."

With a wink he twisted the top off the bottle. "Ladies first."

Diane took a pull off the bottle then offered it to him with a smile.

"Do you remember the night Coach opened that bottle of champagne and sent the cork flying over the bar? It hit Norman square in the forehead with such force that it knocked him back off his barstool." She giggled.

"Yeah, and it hit my wallet with such force that I was out over six hundred bucks after Norm went to the hospital. Most expensive bottle of champagne we ever popped at Cheers."

"How long have you been sober now?" she asked sincerely.

"A long time." He took a swig of grape juice. "The last time I touched a bottle was the day our divorce was final."

"Oh...I see," she said with sadness in her voice.

"I made sure to do it up right too - a pub crawl to end all pub crawls. I was arrested for public intoxication. Somewhere along the way I lost my wallet, my keys, my shoes -"

"But not your pride." she gave his arm a good-natured poke. "You never lose that."

"Oh I lost plenty of that, like when Coach refused to bail me out. Left me in jail for a couple of days." He looked out at the ocean. "You know, I wouldn't be alive today if it weren't for that man."

He stood and walked down to the water's edge. Diane remained seated on the sand, watching himSever. Her heart ached for him. All the bravado he normally projected was gone. Even though he was hurting, this was the Sam she loved best - the man who allowed himself to be vulnerable, to feel. It was this Sam Malone who carved out a place in her soul that would never be filled by another man.

She brushed the sand from her backside and joined him, placing a supportive hand on his shoulder.

"A wise man once said, you never know the true value of a moment until it becomes a memory." He tossed another stick in the water.

His quote surprised her and her mind raced to identify it's source. "That's lovely, Sam. Khalil Gibran was indeed wise."

"No, that was Spongebob actually." He turned to her with a smile. "Listen, enough of all this melancholy. I'm ruining a beautiful sunset with a beautiful woman."

Again his hand found her hair. Again her heart raced furiously. He grinned and pulled her into a dance embrace. Together they swayed to the sound of the surf.

"Do you remember the first time we danced together?" he asked.

"It was at your cousin's wedding," Diane said with a smile. "That was our first weekend away as a couple. We'd only been dating a couple of weeks."

"No one, and I mean no one, expected Mayday Malone to show up with such a classy woman on his arm."

"Oh Sam..." Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"What? It's true." He pulled back and looked into her eyes. "I'll never forget it - you were wearing a blue silk dress. Man, did it hug you in all the right places. The band started playing and well, let me just say that I can't hear a certain Van Morrison song without thinking of you in that dress."

"You remember our song?" she asked, filled with surprise.

"I remember it all, Diane." His eyes darkened with the truth.

His words were honest and a song in themselves - one she'd later play on repeat. The tension between them was delicious. As much as she didn't want it to end, she had to put on the brakes.

"Sam, you promised last night that you wouldn't -"

"I know, I know...I'm sorry." He quickly dropped his arms and took a step back.

They returned to their cozy spot on the sand. They'd talked into the wee hours the night before, sharing memories of their best days together. Sam promised he wouldn't put any pressure on Diane if she returned to the villa. And for the most part, he'd stayed true to his word...until now.

"I read Coach's letters - all of them," he confessed.

"And? How'd you do?"

"It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. You gave me the courage to do it. That's what being near you does to me."

"Sam -" she began, shaking her head.

"I'm just making a statement."

"No you're not. You're flirting with me."

"Sweetheart, I assure you this is not flirting," he declared. "If I wanted to flirt with you, I'd move over really close, until our shoulders were touching." Sam inched his body toward her. "And then I'd wrap my arm around you like this, see?"

The warmth of his body against hers was both exciting and confusing. She knew they were heading down a dangerous road. She'd escaped his eyes and his smile and even his kiss. But deep down she knew the truth: her resolve was wearing thin.

"What you call flirting I call making a move." She reached up and knocked his arm off her shoulder.

"This is nowhere close to making a move. But I promise you that when I do, you'll know it," he informed her with a wink.

Diane gave him a hard look as she pulled the bottle from his grasp. They talked about the events of their day and the possibility of going out for dinner - Joss and Gwen included. Sam was touched by how often she brought their conversations back around to his son. He'd watched her with Joss all day, unable to stop beaming. Diane had been more of a mother to Joss in their few days together than Silvia ever had. Her soft, maternal side was definitely toying with his emotions.

And he liked it.

"I thought of another one. Remember when you dragged me to the Frog Pond? It was during the winter Olympics and you were dead certain that you and I were gonna be the next Torvill and Dean."

"Remember it? I've got the scar to prove it." She pushed up her sleeve and pointed her elbow in his direction. There, the faint line of a pale pink scar, several inches long.

"I don't know what was worse - you, for talking me into it, or me, for agreeing to wear matching sweaters while we made fools of ourselves."

"You want to know the saddest part - other than the fact that I had to wear that awful sling for a month, which creased my blouses horribly? We couldn't even blame it on alcohol."

"We didn't need to, we were drunk on stupidity." He laughed.

"Well look at the pot calling out the kettle. You've made some pretty stupid decisions whilst stone cold sober, Mr. I'll-Bet-You-Ten-Bucks-I-Can-Hurdle-The-Subway-Turnstile Malone"

"True, true. I may have made a slight miscalculation." He shrugged. "I still say that I'd have made it if I hadn't been wearing loafers."

"How many stitches was it?" she asked with a smirk. "Ten?"

"Twelve," he confirmed, taking a moment to inspect the scar that ran across his left knee. "But this one's not nearly as impressive as the one I got a while back."

"What scar is that?"

"The one from my heart surgeon."

"What are you talking about?" she asked, eyes fill with alarm.

Sam stood and removed his shiny black rash guard, revealing a large scar down the center of his chest. He'd worn a different one each time they'd hit the beach or the pool...and now she knew why.

"Diane, meet my hideous, ugly zipper." He said with a smile, running his hand up and down the length of the line.

A look of shock fell across her face. "Oh my god, Sam. You had a heart attack?"

"Almost three years ago."

"But how? You're so young and healthy -"

"With the sexual stamina of Secretariat, don't forget. Evidently I'm genetically predisposed. My old man's ticker was trash and this apple didn't fall far. I had no idea until Lloyd and I ended up stuck in an elevator together. He thought I was having some kind of panic attack. I thought someone parked a semi on my chest."

"Oh my god," she repeated with a shake of her head. "You could have died, Sam."

"I almost did. Another five minutes in that elevator and you'd have been sprinkling _my_ ashes out there."

Her eyes moved from his face to his chest. As though guided by an invisible force, she reached out and gently ran her fingertips across the scar.

"Who's flirting now?" he asked with a serious tone.

Diane quickly pulled her hand back, but he caught it mid air. He held it, along with her eyes, for a moment before pressing it firmly back against his chest. His skin was soft and warm...and his heart was beating as fast as her own.

"You know what else I miss?" he asked softly as he leaned into her. "Besides how you say my name?"

Immediately he was gripped by the same rush of excitement that held him the night before. He pulled her body close. Never had a woman felt so good in his arms. Never had his soul felt so full, so ready to risk everything in hopes of losing his heart to her again. He'd thought of little else all day, desperately holding back until he was certain that the moment wouldn't end in disappointment. His hands found her hair and he kissed her just as the sun disappeared behind the long, blue line. It was deeper this time, filled with twenty years worth of regret. They fell back on the sand and lost themselves for several minutes. Finally Sam pulled back and searched her face.

"A man needs fire, Diane. A place where he can warm himself." His expression was as intense as his tone. "Coach wrote that in his last letter to me...and it's the truest thing he ever said."

"Coach said he'd never known me to be happier than when we were together," she shared.

"And have you been? Happier?" he asked, his heart now pounding.

"Until this week?" She held his gaze. "No."

"The biggest mistake I've ever made was walking away from you," he said after a long silence. "I know we can make this work if it's what you want, because I know it's what I want."

"But there's more than just the two of us to consider here," she reasoned.

"I can go back to New York with you and -"

"No, I'm not talking about Les. I'm talking about Joss." She sat up and backed away, needing a little breathing room. "We can say all the right things and make a lot of promises that may amount to nothing in the end. And we'll deal with it because we're adults, but I won't allow us to hurt that little boy. He's been through enough."

Sam became quiet, seeing her and Joss together in his mind. Her maternal instinct had grown to a degree that even he never imagined.

"Do you know that when I held him for the first time I was thinking of you. It should have been me and you, Diane. Joss should be our son."

"But he's not. And as much as I wish I could, I can't change that." She stopped, overcome by dozens of emotions at once. "Sam, I'm so sorry. If I could take it all back...all the lies..." The words hung in her throat and she couldn't speak.

"Let's not worry about yesterday," he whispered, hand on her cheek. "Let's just focus on tomorrow."

Darkness grew around them, blurring the line between sky and surf. Sam shook the sand from his swim shirt and put it back on. They sat in silence for a while, his body wrapped protectively around her petite frame. The wind grew fierce and whipped her hair around her face. Suddenly she was back in her twenties with nothing but a happy, carefree forever stretching out in front of her.

"Don't go back to New York," he whispered. "Stay here with me...and tell me you believe in second chances."

 **And tell me you believe in leaving a comment or two. Thanks for reading!**


	13. Chapter 13

"I've got you now." His voice was reassuringly calm. "You're gonna be fine. Just put all your weight against me."

With his arm around her waist, he gently guided her back to the house, stopping as soon as they reached the nearest chaise lounge by the pool. Tears of embarrassment filled her eyes, mixed with those resulting from intense, dizzying pain. She didn't want him to see her cry, but in the two minutes it took to get her from the beach to the house, her ankle had doubled in size. He grabbed a cushion from a nearby chair and carefully placed it beneath her injured foot. With the back of his hand, he wiped the sweat from his brow before thoroughly inspecting the damage. The colors of the rainbow were already beginning to show, as her skin took on faint pink, purple, and blue hues. They were silent for a full minute as he contemplated the best way to get her in the car and to the ER.

"Well?" she asked through clenched teeth, her voice barely above a whisper.

"You want the good news or the bad news first?" he asked.

"The bad news, I guess," she said with a heavy sigh.

"I'm no orthopedist, but I'd lay five that it's broken."

"And the good news?" She let out another exasperated sigh.

"The shade of polish on your toes is gonna coordinate beautifully with your bruising." He gave her a smile.

She wanted to laugh, but the tears she'd held in came rushing out instead.

"Hey...hey..." He sat down beside her and rubbed her shoulder with a supportive hand. "Everything is going to be all right, I promise."

 _If your grandmother were alive, she'd tell you in no uncertain terms. God punishes the wicked, Diane. You can't lie on the sand in the arms of one man while wearing the ring of another._

"Well if this isn't the ultimate Karma bitch-slap." She studied her swollen ankle in disbelief.

"I think you're being a little hard on yourself." He turned his eyes back to her foot. "You need ice and x-rays. Maybe even a martini. Think you can make it around to the car?"

"I don't think I can make it off this chair," she said dishearteningly, unable to ignore the throbbing pain.

"I was afraid of that." He exhaled loudly, trying to decide the best course of action. "Let me pull the car around to the side by the gate. I'll get in as tight as I can. We can manage a few more steps. I'll carry you if I have to."

"Said the man with the heart condition." She rolled her eyes.

She watched as he jogged around the side the house, hurried but not frantic. Her mind ran in a thousand directions at once. _Well, there's no way I'm flying out of here on schedule. Les is going to be livid._

He returned a few minutes later, wearing a supportive smile with Gwen following close behind.

"Diane!" She exclaimed when she saw her ankle. "What on earth?"

"You don't even want to know," Diane replied.

"Diane was shooting her mouth off," Sam teased. "And now she's paying the price."

"What happened?" Gwen gave her foot the once over.

"We, uh, we tried to recreate an ice skating lift from years ago, which also ended in disaster," Sam said with a snicker. "What can I say? She likes the lift part. She likes it a lot." He threw a naughty grin at Diane.

#

With luck they found a parking space right near the emergency entrance. He quickly retrieved a wheelchair and within a few minutes of arriving, they were checked in and waiting to be seen. The waiting area was unusually quiet, nothing like the circus they'd encounter if back in the states. Diane sat very still, eyes closed, and tried to ignore the pain. He watched her from the corner of his eye, feeling somewhat helpless and guilty.

Mostly guilty.

 _This poor woman is suffering because of me...and all I can think about is how beautiful she looks._

Though she retained a calm look on her face, he knew she was hurting. She'd said little on the ride to the hospital and he hadn't pressed her for conversation. He thought back on all the topics they'd covered that day. Breakfast to beach time, it had been one non-stop thread of tall tales and teasing. And flirting. And teetering on the edge of what could be their next chapter.

A nurse seated behind the main desk called out her name. Sam reached over and touched her hand.

"Looks like our table is ready," he said with a sweet smile.

The efficiency of the waiting room had been extremely misleading. Once they made it to the triage area, the real waiting game began. It was an hour before they were seen by a real physician. Another hour's wait for x-rays, followed by a forty-five minute wait for a simple bandage. He was able to score a couple of soft drinks and a small bag of peanuts from a vending machine. They dined behind the privacy of a white curtain as they waited to be processed and released. Sam could sense that she was pained by something other than her injury and a bout of low blood sugar.

"If you're worried about the bill, don't. I'm picking up the tab for this."

"You bet your sweet ass your are," she said, eyes fixed firmly on her ankle. "How am I supposed to fly out day after tomorrow? I can't change my clothes in this condition, let alone planes. I'll never make my connecting flight."

"Hey, if you need help getting undressed-"

"Sam!" she scolded. "I'm serious. Where am I going to sleep? There's no way I can make down a flight of stairs."

"Diane, we'll figure it out, okay?" he reassured her.

"I need to call Les," she said, almost as a whisper.

A nurse pulled the curtain back, halting their conversation. After a quick chat about what the coming days would hold in terms of recovery, Diane signed hospital release papers, collected her prescription, and within a few minutes, they were en route to the pharmacy.

#

Gwen met them at the front door, her face filled with worry.

"You've been gone for hours."

"Does the phrase _island time_ mean anything? Sam joked.

"What's the verdict?" she asked.

"Sprained, not broken." Diane hobbled inside.

"Well that's good news." Gwen sighed. "Listen, Marta and I did a little juggling while you were gone. She's sleeping down in your suite, and you'll be here on the main floor in her room, Diane. It's smaller, but you won't have to worry about stairs of any kind. We've moved all of your clothes and belongings, so you should have everything you need."

"You're a godsend, Gwen." She balanced on her crutches.

"If you like, I can help you clean up and get changed."

"That would be wonderful. Thank you," Diane smiled.

Sam followed her to the maid's quarters, her purse hanging from his shoulder. The room was smaller than the downstairs suite, but immaculately appointed and inviting. The bed was dressed with fresh sheets, turned down and waiting. A carafe of water along with her reading glasses, laptop, and book sat on the bedside table. Carefully he fluffed her pillows. She watched him with a smile, touched by the way he took great care with his task.

"Now..." He turned and gave her the once over. "Is there anything you need? Aside from pain pills?"

"No, I don't think so."

"What about from town?" he asked.

"You're not going back in now are you?" she questioned.

"No, but I will first thing in the morning. I'm gonna hit that little market we saw the other day. Then I'm coming back here to make you a Greek style frittata that will knock your socks off." He grinned. "Well, one sock anyway."

"Sam, I'm really sorry about all this. In classic Diane Chambers fashion, I continue to bring forth my signature brand turmoil and strife in your life." She felt the formation of tears.

"Sweetheart, listen, the only apologies here are coming from me. This is all my fault. I got swept up in the moment just as much as you. I should have never picked you up like that. If I could trade places with you, I'd do it in a heartbeat. You know that, don't you?"

"I've ruined everything, Sam. Me and my skinny, weak ankles," she said, exasperated.

"Hey." He gave her a sweet smile. "I happen to like those skinny, weak ankles."

Gwen stuck her head in and that's when Sam made his exit. He checked in on Joss, fast asleep in his bed. Still in his rash guard and swim trunks, he took a quick shower and slipped into boxers and his favorite robe. It was late and he was exhausted, but he couldn't resist the urge to check in on his patient one last time. Back downstairs, he paused, resting his hand on the doorknob to her new room. He listened for signs within, then gave the door two soft taps and waited. When she didn't respond, he quietly turned the knob and peeked inside.

He wasn't surprised to find her freshly showered, foot elevated, computer resting on her midsection...and fast asleep.

 _Pain Medicine: 1_

 _Diane: 0_

Her face retained that same calm expression that he'd observed in the ER waiting room. And the glow of the lamp light made her skin appear more youthful than her years. The words that filled his head the day she walked into the bar on the arm of her former fiance returned, screaming a certain truth.

 _She. Is. Stunning._

Though he knew it was wrong, he silently thanked Karma. The morning couldn't come soon enough. They'd had such a fantastic day together, aside from the obvious. He was ready to pick up where they left off. Carefully he moved her laptop back to the bedside table, trying his best not to wake her. He was just about to turn the lamp off when she reached out and touched his arm.

"Sam..." she whispered his name.

"I'm right here."

"Will you read me the pirate book..." The pain medication was starting to kick in and her words were heavy, yet she still managed to joke and make him smile.

"In the morning, I promise. Right now, you need to rest."

"Please... don't go." She reached out for him again.

He took hold of her hand and studied it for several moments, his heart pounding as he examined her engagement ring. Images flashed through his mind in rapid succession - a pictorial history of their days together. Naked naps on Sunday afternoons. Singing carols with their friends at the bar on Christmas Eve. Finding comfort in each other's arms at the end of a hard day. Every memory was a mirror, her perfect face reflected in each one.

 _My god, Diane, how did I ever let you go?_

She didn't have to ask him twice. The lamp turned dark. His robe fell to the floor. Moments later they were lying side by side, just as they had many years before. His heart was beating at a furious pace, his body as close to hers as her injury would allow. Gently he combed his fingers through her damp hair. He focused on the soothing white noise of the ocean until her soft voice broke through their shared silence.

"Sam?" she whispered.

"Hmm?"

"You wouldn't take advantage of woman in a weakened condition such as this, would you?" she asked.

Not a speck of light shined in the room. Though he couldn't see her face he was certain she was smiling. He'd dreamed of this moment for so long - the chance to fall asleep next to the only woman he ever truly loved.

"Of course not." He found her hand and gave it a tender squeeze.

"Oh." She sighed heavily. "That's too bad."

 **Now that you're feeling all squooshy inside, how about sharing a comment or two?**


	14. Chapter 14

It was still early and he was thankful that the villa was quiet. He only been gone an hour. Arms loaded with groceries and goodies, he retreated to the kitchen and organized his purchases as quietly as possible. After several minutes he located it - the perfect vase for the bouquet he scored from the florist around the corner from the market. _Blue_ _blooms_ , _to_ _match_ _her_ _bruising_ , he thought with a grin. He placed the flowers on the largest tray he could find, along with a collection of silly items he hoped would raise her spirits.

He'd moved from her bed to the living room sofa around five. It hadn't been easy. Lying beside Diane, he felt like himself for the first time in a long time. Years in fact. They hadn't kissed or really even touched, aside from the few seconds her hand gripped his. She'd joked about him taking advantage of her during those last moments she'd been coherent, before the pain medicine had whisked her away to a more peaceful realm. But he wasn't looking for sex - not at that moment. He longed for those treasured times locked away behind closed doors, talking til the wee hours or simply falling asleep in each other's arms. Feeling the warmth of her foot against his. The tickle of her hair against his fingertips as his hand brushed across her pillow. The security of knowing that there in his most vulnerable state, she was right beside him, as though not an unhappy day had passed between them. What he was feeling went beyond the physical. He wanted his wife back. The partner with whom he'd started a journey. His one-time best friend.

The thought of Diane returning to New York and into the arms of Leslie Meredith was something he couldn't stand to face.

#

The sun bounced off the water, forcing bright light into her new bedroom. Her ankle pain was intense and she was ready for relief. She opened her eyes and zeroed in on the beautiful floral arrangement on her bedside table. Unfortunately it provided only a few seconds of happy diversion, her ankle now throbbing. Thankfully she'd made it through the night without issue. She was, however, ready to partake in another round of pain medication. Of course, she'd need some breakfast first. A check of the clock confirmed what her stomach already knew. She strained her ears, hoping for the merry sounds of frittata-making in the kitchen down the hall. But all was quiet and she decided that everyone was still asleep.

Carefully she sat up and slowly re-positioned her injured leg. That's when she spied an eclectic collection of items piled on a tray beside the flowers. A smile filled her face as she settled the tray on her lap, eager to inspect each one. _What on earth?_ _How and where did he find all of this?_ It was a random assortment - everything from Gummy Bears to a light-up yo-yo to a small package of metal Jacks. There were several puzzle books - crosswords, Sudoku, and the like. A bright pink plastic whistle. A tiny bottle of Jack Daniels. A wooden paddle ball toy. Breath mints. A laser pointer. A stress ball. Crayons and a coloring book of horses. A deck of cards featuring the image of a British Boy Band. A miniature Magic Eight Ball. Two trashy tabloids written in Greek. A container of tiny, plastic sea creatures. A copy of USA Today and a Pez dispenser in the shape of, who else - Spongebob Squarepants.

 _How does he do it?_

Immediately she was transported back to a surprise party he'd thrown for her. He'd arranged a group of friends to meet up at her favorite eatery, each bearing a collection of wrapped gifts of a similar nature. After nearly an hour of nonstop unwrapping she'd given up, unable to make a dent in the three hundred plus gifts. It had been one of the best birthdays she'd ever celebrated. Sam had been charming and attentive and made her feel like the only woman in the world. She could still see him, leaning against the door frame of the private room at the famed restaurant, watching her interact with their friends. He caught her eye and smiled, his expression filled with love and pride.

Six weeks later, the bulk of the gifts remained unopened while her marriage to Sam had come unwrapped.

 _You can't change the past, Diane, so why dwell?_

On the edge of the tray she spied a small envelope and wasted no time tearing into it. She smiled as she read the short note, written in his unique brand of scrawl.

 _24-hour Nursing Service And Frittata Delivery available upon request - 617.555.0210_

Her heart beat a rhythm that matched the throbbing in her ankle. She tapped the card against her thumb, debating. But the internal battle didn't last and she reached for her cell phone.

"Nightingale Services, providing the best in bedside manner. How may I direct your call?" he answered in his best customer service voice.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I was trying to reach _Sam's House of Frittatas_."

He knew she was smiling. He could hear it in her voice. And the fact that he'd had a small part in it made him smile too.

"How's the ankle?" he asked with concern.

"Oh it's awake. Wide awake." She looked down at her injury, still amazed by the amount of swelling and bruising. _My god, it doesn't even look like my ankle..._

"Don't move a muscle," he cautioned.

"Like that's even an option," she joked.

A few minutes later he poked his head inside the door and smiled. "Are you decent?"

"In thought, word, and deed," she replied.

He headed straight for the foot of the bed and examined her ankle. There'd been little changed since he'd departed before sunrise, when he'd stood at the door and watched her sleep. It had taken every ounce of will power in his body to resist crawling back in beside her. Gently he placed his hand on her injury, confirming his suspicions.

"It's still warm. We need to follow the icing schedule today. And I think we should take the doctor's advice and wrap it up."

"I hate those awful bandages." She sighed.

"If you don't follow orders, you'll hate surgery more," he said firmly. "Now, I believe we have some unfinished business to settle in the form of scrambled eggs."

#

He moved in high gear around the kitchen, whipping up the promised frittata, along with some fresh fruit, juice, and coffee. He filled her water carafe and refreshed her ice pack. When he returned to her room, he found her coloring - a beautiful Palomino.

"Chambers, party of one," he announced, tray in hand.

"Oh Sam, that looks and smells heavenly." She eyed his culinary treats.

"But will it taste heavenly? That's the real question." He positioned the tray on her lap and took a step back, clearly proud of his efforts.

"You're joining me, right?" she asked.

"Well, I don't want to be a bother."

"I'll be bothered if you leave me to enjoy this beautiful meal all by myself," she said with a sincere smile.

He returned with his own tray a few minutes later and settled in on the window seat. He watched the waves outside for a moment, thinking back to how much he'd enjoyed their beach time together. There were moments when he'd literally had to fake it - making up vague answers to questions he hadn't heard her ask because he'd been too focused on her hair. Her hands. Her eyes. She was classic. Timeless. Still strongly opinionated, but in a way he now found refreshing. She had a smile that wouldn't quit and he wondered how she could have pushed past fifty. She was still every bit the vibrant young woman he'd fallen for years before.

He wanted nothing but to spend every moment he could with her.

"You weren't kidding." She broke their silence. "You make a mean frittata. This is absolutely fantastic."

"I wish I could take credit for it. Gwen taught me a few tricks. I only open and manage successful restaurants. I don't cook in them."

"Gwen mentioned that you're going to be opening another restaurant soon."

"We're a little behind schedule, what with Coach's illness and passing, but only by a couple of months. It's going to be the crown jewel in The Malone Group."

"Wait a minute. You're a Group?" she asked, shocked.

"Not bad for an alcoholic ex-jock, huh? And a college educated one at that."

"Sam Malone." She shook her head in disbelief. "Are you telling me you went back to school?"

"I am."

"We've spent all this time together and you're just now mentioning that you went back to college?"

"Not only did I go back, I graduated - a BS in Business Administration with a concentration on Entrepreneurship from Boston University," he announced with pride.

She cocked her head and studied him with a sideways look. "Are you sure it wasn't just BS?"

He crossed the room, phone in hand. He stood beside her, eyes on the screen as he scrolled. He offered it to her with a smile. She found a photo of Sam, dressed in cap and gown, surrounded by all the Cheers regulars. Never had she observed a more joyful look on his face.

"Samuel David Malone...I have never been more proud of you in my life." She looked up at him with clouded eyes.

"I'm pretty proud of myself." He took his phone from her hand. "You wanna know something crazy? I loved it. Every lecture. Every professor. Well, not every professor, but you know what I mean. Everyone told me I was crazy but deep down, I knew it was something I needed to do. They told me the same thing when I decided to buy Melville's but I thought, what the hell. It's a short commute."

"I believe it was Ray Bradbury who said, _jump and you will find out how to unfold your wings as you fall_."

"Oh I fell all right - into near bankruptcy that first year. But I reached out to some contacts I'd made through the business school and as they say, the rest is history. The Malone Group is not only surviving, but thriving."

"I'm really am very impressed...but I can honestly say I'm not surprised. I knew a passion to grow and improve was inside you all along."

"Okay, okay, enough about me. You need to finish those eggs so you can take your pain medicine." He rummaged around the tray of goodies in search of her prescription bottle.

"How on earth did you manage to score all these?" She pointed to the various trinkets. "You must have run all over town."

"Ah, a magician never reveals his secrets," he teased.

He knew by her tone and eyes that she was beyond pleased.

"I've got enough here to keep me busy for months. It's perfect. All of it. You've spoiled me."

"You deserve a little spoiling - a lot, actually."

"Are you saying there's more to come?" she asked with a hopeful shine.

"Oh I'll never tell."

"Maybe I'll twist the other ankle when we're done." she bit back a flirty grin.

"Diane, haven't you tempted Karma enough?" he cautioned.

"I like to live on the edge."

"Well you're lucky the doctor said three weeks. When I broke my ankle, it was a good three months before I was up and a full year before I was back to living dangerously," he informed her.

"When was this?" she inquired.

"About ten years ago. I was playing rugby with a group of guys about half my age. I scored the game winner though and that's all that mattered."

"Well of course. It's all about winning." She rolled her eyes at him.

"After my surgery I was bored to death. My life was nothing but Pocket Yahtzee and MASH reruns. I almost lost my mind."

"Wait, you had surgery?"

"Oh yeah, full reconstruction. It was bad."

"So in the years since our divorce, you've had ankle surgery _and_ heart surgery?" she asked.

"And a broken pinky. Freak ping-pong accident. Oh, and see these two teeth right here? Fake. Veneers. Smacked my mouth on the bottom of a hotel pool."

"Good lord, Sam. You could have been paralyzed. What were you thinking?"

"That I lost any chance I might have had at making the US Men's Diving Team."

"I've never known you to be so accident prone. You were never like that when we were married."

"I guess that's what happens when you lose your good luck charm." He smiled.

Diane replied to his comment with an equally large smile. And just like that, they fell back into the same, relaxed rhythm, talking about everything and nothing. But it didn't take long for their topics of discussion to deepen. The level of trust between them was such that it created almost a physical presence in the room. It gave Sam the courage to ask a question that had been on his mind for hours.

"Have you gotten in touch with Les?" he asked.

"Uh no, not yet," she answered, dropping her eyes from view.

"Listen, Diane, I know it's none of my business, but don't you think you should let him know - about your injury, I mean."

She drew a deep breath and released it slowly, still avoiding his gaze. "He doesn't know I'm here. He thinks I'm staying at the hotel," she confessed.

Sam nodded silently as he processed this new information.

"Is this what you former mystery novelists call a plot twist?" he pressed.

"He's a reasonable man," she answered after a moment. "A well-educated, caring, man. He'll understand."

"I'm caring, somewhat educated, and reasonable too, Diane. I think the operative word here is _man_. I'd be on the next plane before you could get the words _ex-husband's villa_ out of your mouth."

#

They spent the majority of the day together, holed up inside the maid's quarters. While he longed to curl up on the bed beside her, he kept a respectable distance, lounging in an oversized chair in the corner. He hopped up every so often, to refill her drink or tend to her ice pack. Mostly they just existed in the quiet of the beautifully appointed room-she, clicking away on her laptop while he did the same. The silence between them was never awkward or uncomfortable. In fact, he enjoyed just being in the same room with her. Breathing her air. Knowing he could look up and study her as often as he liked. Occasionally they'd engage in conversation. Twice he asked her to proofread some business correspondence. Once she solicited his opinions regarding portfolio diversification. Joss and Gwen paid them several visits but spent the majority of the day outside. Around two-thirty though she drifted off. She'd fought hard against the medication but eventually her body gave in. He sat and watched her sleep for a while, checking the skies beyond the window every few minutes. The bright sunshine had given way to clouds, and the room softened with afternoon shadows. Her computer sat perched and running on her lap, creating an exercise in honesty. He was dying to know what she'd been working on. She'd typed feverishly all day. But he resisted the urge and closed her laptop without taking a peek. He pulled a soft throw from the back of his chair and covered her as gently as possible.

"Thank you..." she whispered, eyes closed.

"Sweet dreams," he whispered back, trying to resist an even stronger urge.

He stood over her, taken with every line and curve of her face.

 _Please God, give us one more chance. I just want to take care of this woman...for as long as she'll let me._

#

The sound of raindrops woke her. She opened her eyes and found him asleep in the chair across the room. At some point he'd changed out of his khakis and polo, now wearing his terry cloth robe over a t-shirt and shorts. His feet were bare and propped up on the ottoman. He was the picture of relaxed. A pair of glasses balanced on the end of nose. His hair had fallen down across his forehead, giving him a boyish look.

As quietly as possible, she slipped her arms through her own robe then reached for her crutches, never taking her eyes off him. He'd fussed over her all day and she didn't want to wake him. He'd earned a rest. She took a deep breath and stood up, eager to stretch her muscles and escape the bedroom walls. But she was hit by an intense wave of dizziness. Teeth clenched, she winced in pain and fell back against the bed.

"Diane!" he called out, now wide awake.

"I'm fine. I just stood up too fast that's all."

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" He was up and at her side in two seconds.

"Well, for starters, I'm planning a trip to the Ladies Room. After that, who knows. Maybe golf or salsa dancing." She shot him a look.

"That bad, huh?" he asked, knowing exactly how she felt.

"I can't stay in this bed for another minute."

"Ready for a change of scenery?"

"Beyond ready."

By the time she made it into the living room, Sam had popcorn popped, drinks poured, movie cued, and the sofa completely bedecked with blankets and comfy pillows.

 _Magician indeed,_ she thought with a smile.

"This is more of that spoiling you hinted at earlier, isn't it?"

"Nothing but the best for my patient." He beamed.

She felt guilty when Sam denied Joss's pleas to join them. Thankfully, Gwen worked her own brand of magic and talked him into playing board games in the kitchen. It was hard for her to concentrate on the romantic comedy he'd selected, her eyes bouncing from the TV screen to his profile every few minutes. Hellish sprain or no, this had been one of the best days in recent memory. He'd been the perfect gentleman. Attentive. Helpful. Emotionally available. Never once had he mentioned any tensions from their collective past. He'd simply shared himself in the most kind and natural way. It meant more to her than anything...and she hated what she was about to do.

"Sam, can we take a break for a few minutes?" she asked.

"Is it time for another round?" He checked his watch, trying to calculate the next dose of pain medicine.

"No, I'm actually okay at the moment. I just need to talk to you."

As her tone changed from relaxed to serious, so did his posture. She took a deep breath, hoping that the small speech she'd rehearsed in her head would be well delivered and well received.

"I spoke with Les," she confessed.

"When was this?" he asked.

"This afternoon - a few minutes after you left my room."

"So he knows?"

"I told him that I fell and that I'm staying out here for a couple of days," she informed him.

"And how did that go over?"

"Well, he was of course very concerned for my health. He wanted to know exactly what the doctor said and what type of medication I'm taking. He didn't say much about my current living arrangements. I told him that Gwen made a room for me in the maid's quarters. He's adamant about flying over here to take me back himself."

"But you told him that wasn't necessary, right? You told him that you'd fly back with us?"

"I told him we'd discuss travel arrangements in a couple of days when my swelling went down."

The room fell painfully quiet.

"Did you tell him...about us?" Sam pressed.

Diane picked at a loose thread on the edge of the blanket, her heart beating wildly.

"That's not something that can be discussed over the phone. Words like that can't be fired across the span of seven thousand miles, Sam. Not with someone you're planning to marry."

It was Sam's turn to look away. His heart galloped inside his chest, like a wild horse on a deserted stretch of beach. Hours before he'd watched her sleep, eager for the moment when night would return. Eager for the moment when he would slip from a wakeful state into dreams, her hand locked in his behind a closed bedroom door.

"I have to go back to New York," she said softly, still avoiding his eyes. "And I have to go back alone."

 **Hey! Don't you want to leave some feedback? All the cool kids are doing it.**


	15. Chapter 15

_The house echoed as her high heels clicked against the wood floors. Standing in front of the oversized window, she stopped and peered out beyond the deck to the waves. It was the very spot where she'd stood years before, wrapped in the promise of forever with the man she was about to call husband. He'd rented the picture perfect beach house for an entire month prior to their wedding...and it had only taken about five minutes for her to fall in love with it. The architecture. The view. All thirteen elegant rooms. They'd made love in every one of them. Twice. It was where they spent their first night as husband and wife_ _and was the first gift he bestowed upon Mrs. Loren Avery. A silver key threaded on a red bow, hung around her neck with the declaration that no_ _matter where they were in the world, as long as they were together, they would be home._

 _Only now, their once happy Martha's Vineyard hideaway was quiet and cold. The moving company had come and gone, taking with it years worth of memories. The walls were bare and the rooms, empty._

 _"It's still the best view in town, isn't it?"_

 _"Loren?" Phoebe turned sharply, startled by the sound of his voice and shocked to see her ex-husband standing in the same room._

 _"Reese Hutton told me you were in town. Said you'd decided to sell."_

 _"I didn't know you'd spoken with Reese. He never mentioned it."_

 _"He actually called me last month. The moment he hung up with you as a matter of fact. Wanted to give me first shot at the place before you listed. I was surprised when he said you'd decided to let it go. I know how much you love it here."_

 _"I do love it here. It's just that San Francisco is a long way from the Vineyard. I don't know how often we'd...well, what I mean is that..."_

 _"You don't owe me any sort of explanation," he reassured her._

 _"So what are you doing here?" she asked._

 _"The opposite of what you're doing. I'm shopping. For a beach house." He smiled. "And I think I found one. Gorgeous. Eight acres, right on Nantucket Sound, near Edgartown."_

 _"So you're not interested in this place?"_

 _"Too many ghosts here for my taste. Though I will say that window alone is worth the asking price."_

 _He strolled up beside her, taking a moment to watch the waves. She observed his profile, remembering the first time she'd seen him. With his chiseled features and dark hair, he was easily one of the most handsome men she'd ever met. His broad shoulders supported his long, strong arms-the kind that gave a woman endless security when wrapped inside them. With the weather turning warmer, his skin had taken on a brighter tone. He must be back on the tennis courts, she suspected._

 _"Have you been here long?" he asked, interrupting the silence._

 _"Only long enough to watch the movers make the final round. They pulled out about ten minutes ago."_

 _"Looks like they got it all," he observed._

 _"Everything but the kitchen sink," she replied, desperate to avoid any sort of awkward silence._

 _"Do you remember that night we had that awful storm here?"_

 _"I'll never forget it. It was New Year's Eve. The power went out for what? Twenty-two hours I think."_

 _"And we cooked over the fireplace, remember? In fact, I don't think we left this room."_

 _"Except to get some dry firewood from the little garden shed. I was a drowned rat when I got back inside."_

 _"Soaked to the bone, but more beautiful than ever. I can still see the wet ends of your hair, Phoebe...all stuck to your neck and -"_

 _"It was freezing, I remember that," she cut him off, eager to halt any talk of intimate remembrances._

 _"We made our own heat though." He turned his face to her and smiled. "Brought the mattress down and slept right here in front of the fire."_

 _"Yes we did." She couldn't help but smile back._

 _"It's kind of ironic, isn't it?" He laughed._

 _"What?" she asked._

 _"That we should begin and end in the very same room."_

 _Phoebe held her breath, unsure what to say. Their life as husband and wife officially ceased to exist when a New York judge's gavel had fallen two weeks earlier, dissolving their union. Neither attended the proceedings, opting to let their high priced attorneys hammer out the final details. Even though she was eager to move forward with her life, now evidenced by the enormous diamond solitaire on her left hand, she couldn't deny a hint of sadness tugging at her. A tiny part of her didn't want to say goodbye. Loren had been good to her. Loved and cherished her. They'd weathered the storm of a miscarriage and the deaths of both their fathers. But there was a history and connection with Philip that she would never be able to break. The time she'd spent with her first husband in France had opened her eyes and her heart. In six weeks time, she'd take up her old moniker...becoming Mrs. Philip Twist for the second time in her life._

 _"Loren, listen...I..." she began, but he didn't let her continue._

 _"Phoebe, you don't have to say anything." He took a step toward her, closing the distance between them. "I just want you to be happy. And if I'm not the man who can give you that…"_

 _"When I went to France with Philip, it was to do a job. Complete a task. Nothing more. I know it's been said a million times, but I swear I didn't go there to -"_

 _"Nobody ever plans for it, Phoebe." He sighed heavily, trying to keep his emotions in check._

 _"I honestly don't know how we got here," she confessed. "How can it be so perfect one day, and then..." She swallowed hard, trying to control her now fragile emotions._

 _"If I thought I had a chance, I'd fight for you. But you were never really mine. Even if you're not brave enough to admit it, I'm brave enough to accept it."_

 _Seconds later she found herself in that place. The comforting spot defined by his strong arms. They held each other in silence, each mourning the loss of what started with an end goal of happily ever after. He pressed his lips against her forehead. It was the last time he'd ever hold her. Kiss her. Touch her._

 _"You can have perfect, Phoebe," he whispered softly. "Philip is waiting for you...and you deserve every ounce of happiness he can give."_

Diane's cell phone chimed, causing her to jump. She stopped typing and checked the display, smiling when she read the text.

 _Call your mother._

She checked her watch, mentally calculating the time difference between them. With a sigh and against her better judgment, she placed the call. Helen Chambers answered on the first ring.

"Were you sitting by the phone?" Diane asked.

"I wasn't sure you'd still be awake."

"I was just working on, I mean, I was about to turn off my light."

"What happened, darling? Les said you fell?"

"I twisted my ankle. It's not that big a deal."

"Les seems to think it is."

"That's because Les is more concerned about my current housing situation and not my medical needs." Her tone was curt and she immediately regretted her tone.

"I'm guessing this is not a good time to talk," her mother responded softly.

"I'm sorry. That came out wrong. I just - it's complicated. I apologize for snapping at you. When did you speak with Les?"

"He called and left a message and I called him back. Now don't be upset with him. He just felt I should know."

"I wasn't trying to hide anything from you. I just didn't want you to worry. I'm in very good hands."

"Perhaps that's the reason your fiance is on edge." She waited for a reply, but her daughter remained silent. "Les said you might be there for another week or so," she continued.

"I don't know. If I can, I'll fly out earlier. Maybe in a few days."

"Can you put any weight at all on your foot?"

"I'm afraid not." She looked down at her injury. "The swelling has gone down, but -"

"And they're certain it's not broken?"

"I had several x-rays. Not broken, but it would be better if it was. If I can remain disciplined, I can probably fly out in a few days."

"Diane, how on earth do you think you'll get back to New York in a few days? Airports are tricky and tiring on two good legs."

"You let me worry about the logistics. Sam and I are talking about it. He's insisting that I not make the trip back alone."

"Well thank goodness for his voice of reason. Really, darling, you've got to see sense on this."

"I can't stay here another week," Diane sighed. "I just can't."

Helen Chambers knew that her daughter's ankle injury had nothing on the real pain she was feeling. She knew because she'd fallen into the same trap at one time. She'd never shared the particulars of the week she'd spent with her ex-husband, Robert, when Diane was young. Yet she knew speaking honestly about her own experience was the only way she could comfort her daughter.

"Can't...or afraid to?" she questioned.

"Things have never been this strained between me and Les. I have to get back as soon as possible."

"What does he expect you to do? It's not like you planned it. Short of hopping on a plane and coming to get you, he -"

"Well of course I didn't plan it," Diane exhaled again.

"Are you sleeping with Sam?" Helen asked after a long pause.

"Mother!" Diane exclaimed. "You can't ask me that."

"I just did. And I wish my mother had been in a position to really talk to me when I made the decision to fly out to see Robert."

Diane felt her heart skip a beat. _No way. There's no way she cheated on my father._

"I don't think I'm ready to have this conversation." Her eyes fell closed and she drew a deep breath.

"Then we won't have it, if you truly aren't ready."

Diane remained quiet. If there was one person in the world she could confide in without fear of judgment, it was the wise woman on the other end of the line.

"We're not. Sleeping together, I mean. Well, we slept together last night but only in the literal sense. He stayed with me all night to make sure I was okay, but nothing happened."

Helen detected a hint of disappointment in her daughter's voice. It told her everything she needed to know.

"And how was it? Falling asleep and waking up beside your ex-husband?"

"Aside from my ankle pain?" Diane remembered the feel of his hand in hers in those last few seconds of lucidity. "It was the most peaceful I've felt in years."

"You're still in love with him, aren't you?"

Her eyes zeroed in on the last line she'd typed, cursor blinking hopefully for her next thought.

 _Philip is waiting for you...and you deserve every ounce of happiness he can give you._

"I don't know." Diane's head fell back against the headboard.

"Sometimes the absence of an answer is an answer in itself."

"I don't want to be..." she added in a whisper. "Someone's going to get hurt here."

"And I certainly hope it's not going to be you."

"Sam and I..." she began after a lengthy pause.

"Yes?" Helen pressed.

"We've reconnected in ways I never thought possible. He's been wonderful. So loving and attentive. I feel so good when I'm with him - like we've never missed a beat. He knows me better than anyone. And Joss..." She thought of the boy and his sweet smile. "He's wrapping me around his finger. I'm just afraid that..."

"What?"

"Sam just buried Coach. He's fragile. He needs someone and right now, he's bound and determined that that someone is going to be me. I keep wondering what would happen if Silvia were here instead of me. Would he be acting the same way toward her because he's scared to death of being alone? Because it's convenient? Given the situation he might be drawn to any woman."

"You're not _any_ woman, Diane - not where Sam Malone is concerned." Helen countered. "You two have a history that you'll never be able to recreate with anyone else."

"He wants us to try again. To be a family - he and Joss and I."

"Try again as in remarry?"

"He hasn't come right out and said marriage, but yes, I think that's his ultimate goal. It all sounds romantic and perfect when you're dancing around on white sand watching the sunset. But this isn't reality. Cheers doesn't have a beach view."

"What do _you_ want, Diane?"

Again her eyes wandered across her laptop screen. Years had fallen away without the slightest desire to write. Now, suddenly, she found she couldn't type the words fast enough.

 _Why are you making this so hard?_

 _Look at what you're doing. You've resurrected Philip and Phoebe, for god's sake._

 _Is there any question as to what you really want?_

"To live without regret," she finally answered.

"Unfortunately the two can never be mutually exclusive - life and regret. But if I can offer you a little advice, woman to woman, I'd tell you to look inside your secret room."

"Secret room?" Diane questioned.

"Every woman has one. It's that place inside that you keep locked from the rest of the world. The place that holds the feelings that you never share with anyone. Not your mother. Not your lover. No one." Helen sighed. "The answer you're looking for is inside your secret room, Diane. You know what you want. You just have to get past the fear of going after it."

"Did you sleep with Robert? When you went out to California?" she asked after a very pregnant pause.

"Yes," Helen answered calmly.

A wave of heat seared through Diane with her mother's confession. It didn't matter how close they were or how mature she thought she was - she would always struggle to see Helen Chambers as a woman with needs and desires.

"Did Father know?"

"Yes."

"And you have no regrets?"

"It answered the most important question of my adult life."

"Which was?"

"Was my marriage to your father worth saving?"

"And it took sleeping with your ex-husband to answer that?" Diane asked sternly.

"Sometimes the answers to life's toughest questions come in the most unexpected ways," Helen answered confidently.

 _#_

She was still dissecting the telling call to her mother when she heard the sound of a light knock. Seconds later she heard it again, the faint rap of a hand on her bedroom door. She was just about to extend a verbal invitation to enter when the door opened and she locked on a pair of shining eyes.

"Joss?" She checked the clock beside the bed. "What are you doing still awake?"

"Daddy said I could come tell you goodnight." He took several steps inside her room, something hidden behind his back.

"Whatcha got there?" Diane asked, biting back a grin.

Shyly he pulled his beloved stuffed shark into view. "Kenny wants to sleep with you again."

"He's worried about my ankle, isn't he?"

"Does it still hurt real bad?" the boy asked.

"I wish I could say it doesn't, but it does."

"Is that why you didn't want to watch another movie with us in the living room?"

"Part of the reason. I felt it was time to come back to bed."

"Are you watching a movie on your laptop?"

"No, actually, I'm working on a project."

"What kind of project?"

"Nothing important. Just some writing."

"Like a book?" he asked with wide eyes. "Is it about pirates?"

"No, it's not a book. Not yet. Right now it's just some notes. But it does take place by the ocean, so I guess it could include pirates." She smiled.

"Will you read it to me?"

"I would, but I don't think it will interest you much. It's really for grown-up ladies."

"Does it have kissing and stuff?" He made a face.

"It has some." She closed her laptop and patted the spot on the bed where his father had slept the night before.

Gently he crawled up and snuggled in beside her. Arm around his tiny frame, she rested her cheek against his head, drinking in the scent of his freshly washed hair.

"Your dad said that you spoke with your mom earlier today."

"Yes, ma'am."

"How is your mother?" she asked.

"She's fine." he answered with a heavy sigh.

Immediately Diane detected trouble. She was just about to inquire when Joss spoke up.

"We're going on a cruise ship," he continued.

"Really? That sounds exciting."

"I don't want to go."

"I'm sure if you give it a chance, you'll have a lot of fun."

"Maybe you and dad and Gwen could go with us," he suggested with hopeful eyes.

"That's very sweet of you to want to include us, but I think your mom would prefer to have some time alone with you."

"Carlo is going with us," he informed her.

"Who is Carlo?"

"My mom's boyfriend."

"I didn't know your mother had a boyfriend." Diane paused, trying to decide whether to press for details or change the subject.

"He has a plane _and_ a helicopter."

"That sounds impressive. Does he take you flying?"

"No. Kids aren't allowed on his plane."

"Well, that's not very kind of him."

"He doesn't like me."

"Now Joss, I'm sure that's not true. It's impossible to not like you. I just met you and I'm crazy about you." She gave his ribs a playful poke. "I'm sure Carlo likes you very much."

"He never wants to play games or read with me or go swimming or anything."

"Well, maybe he's just not a fan of those things. Maybe you have to look hard to find something you have in common."

"Like what?"

"Well, think for a minute. What does Carlo like to do? Besides fly his planes?"

The boy fell silent for a moment. "I don't know. He talks on the phone a lot. He's real busy. But he likes horses."

"Do you like horses?"

"I like horses as long as they don't go fast. I got to ride a horse named Tealight at my summer camp."

"Maybe when you're on your cruise, you can talk with Carlo about horses. I bet you both have some good horseback riding stories to share."

"But Carlo doesn't like to ride horses. He just likes to watch them race." Joss paused again. "He gets _real_ mad when his horses don't win."

"What does he do when his horses don't win?" Diane inquired, suddenly feeling very over-protective.

"He says a lot of really bad words and then he's real quiet for a long time and then he starts talking on the phone again. Sometimes he takes his white powder medicine. Then he starts talking real fast and loud."

"White powder medicine?" Diane felt the hairs on her neck stand at attention. "Does your, uh, does your mom take that kind of medicine too?"

"No."

 _Abort, Diane! Abort! The boyfriend of your ex-husband's ex-wife is completely out of your jurisdiction. And honestly, it could be something as simply as a headache powder. Don't assume that every monied person living in Europe is snorting cocaine. You can mention it to Sam, just as a sharing of information. Beyond that, you cannot play mother to this little boy._

 _You're not anyone's mother, Diane...and you only have yourself to blame for this fact._

"You know, I grew up with horses. I was a show-jumper when I was a girl. In fact, I started to compete when I wasn't much older than you," she quickly changed the subject.

"What's a show jumper?" he asked.

"It's when a horse and rider compete in an obstacle course."

"Oh yeah!" Joss said excitedly. "Like when you jump over those walls and baby pools?"

"You got it."

"Is it scary?"

"It can be, but you can't let the horse know you're afraid. Horses are strong and majestic, but very sensitive. If you show the tiniest bit of apprehension, they will sense it."

Suddenly her thoughts turned to a quiet man thousands of miles away, realizing the deep irony in her statement.

 _Stop kidding yourself, Diane. Les knows. Maybe not definitively, but he suspects. How could he not? Put the sprain on the other ankle. If he'd left the country with his ex-wife, wouldn't you have been a little suspicious?_

"Joss," Sam stuck his head inside the door. "I thought I said two minutes."

"It's my fault," Diane said. "We've been talking horses. And Joss was telling me about his upcoming cruise with his mom." _And her coke-head boyfriend._

"Time to hit it, Little Man. Tell Diane goodnight."

"Goodnight, Diane." He looked up at her with trusting eyes.

"Thanks for letting Kenny stay with me again tonight." She brushed his hair back with a loving hand.

They shared a gentle hug before he backed off her bed.

"I'll be right up. Get those teeth brushed," Sam commanded.

"Yes sir," the boy replied with a yawn.

Sam watched the door until he was sure his son was beyond earshot. He turned back to Diane wearing a look of insecurity. He thrust his hands in his pockets and dropped his eyes from view for a moment. When he raised his head again, she found an even more intense expression.

"He'd stay in here all night if I'd let him."

"I wouldn't mind. He's a snuggler."

"I want to apologize, Diane."

"For Joss? He's not bothering -"

"No not for Joss. For myself - my words and my actions."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm apologizing for everything I've said and done. I've put you in a terrible position and I'm disgusted with myself. Even more so by the fact that my actions took precedence over the real reason we're even here together. You're engaged to someone else. I haven't given you or your relationship with Les an ounce of respect. I've been selfish and totally out of line. I apologize if my actions have confused you."

"It's not as if I didn't have a part in it myself, Sam."

"I'm not looking for a debate, but bottom line - I took advantage of you and our situation here together. It was wrong. I was wrong...and I hope you will forgive me."

"I, well, off course I forgive you," she replied, unsure what else to say.

"Joss and I are flying to Athens tomorrow afternoon and -"

Diane cut him off. "Tomorrow? But Joss said he wasn't going for a few weeks."

"Silvia has had a change to her work schedule and she'd like to spend some time with Joss now. Anyway, we're flying into Athens tomorrow and then on to Italy the next day."

"I see." Her heart thumped wildly.

"Gwen will be staying here with you until you feel confident enough to fly back. She'll see you all the way back to New York. I'm covering all expenses so take as much time as you like. The villa can be yours for another month if necessary - there's no rush. Marta will stay on to help, so really, there's nothing you need to do but relax and focus on your recovery."

His announcement took her completely by surprise. Hours before they'd talked about her need to return home. He'd listened and said he understood. The whole conversation had lasted less than five minutes. Clearly he'd mistaken her urgency to leave as a need to get away from him.

"Sounds like you've thought of everything." She watched his eyes, not fully convinced by his performance.

"I think this is the best solution for all involved parties."

 _You mean Les can't put pressure on me when you're not even here. Look at you - you're trying to protect me at the expense of your own feelings._

"I don't know what to say, Sam. A simple thank you doesn't seem to hit the mark."

"Just promise me that you won't rush back until you feel you're strong enough to handle the trip."

"I promise."

They stared at each other, lost in silence. While the room was quiet, her mind was screaming.

 _Tell him, Diane._

 _Tell him the only reason you're going back to New York is to break if off with Les in person._

"How's the ankle?" he asked.

"It's actually not too bad right now."

"That's because you stayed off it all day. And you need to continue to do that."

"Well, you've been an excellent nursemaid." She smiled.

"Need anything?"

"I don't think so. I'm about to take a pain pill and call it a day."

"Listen, I hate the thought of you being alone again tonight, so I was thinking..."

 _You love me, Sam Malone. You've always loved me._

 _We've always loved each other._

 _Of course I want to fall asleep beside you one more time._

"Yes?" She looked up at him.

He pulled his hand from his pocket and produced a small slip of paper. He walked over and placed it on the bedside table beside her cell phone.

"If you need anything, anything at all..." He looked down at her, his eyes dark with sadness. "Just call Gwen's cell."

 **Fifteen chapters in and you still haven't left comments? Come on and do me a solid, will ya?**


	16. Chapter 16

Diane held her breath as she locked on Sam's eyes once more.

"Does Gwen know...that she's been volunteered for the night shift?" she asked warily.

"She does," he answered softly.

 _This is it. He's going upstairs. And tomorrow, he's flying out and you might not see him for a long time. In fact, you might not see him ever again. It's time to make a decision._

 _A Helen Chambers caliber decision._

 _One you can live with, guilt-free, for the rest of your days._

"Sorry to interrupt, but I think you're being summoned." Gwen suddenly appeared in the doorway and Sam spun around at the sound of the older woman's voice.

"Joss?" he asked.

"He's called down for you twice."

"That's my cue." He turned back to Diane, wearing a look she couldn't decipher. "I'll see you in the morning."

She watched him walk away, touched by the sweet way he patted Gwen's shoulder in passing.

"I am so sorry," Gwen said when they were alone.

"Please, there's no need to apologize. We were just saying goodnight."

"Are you sure? Because the tension in here was pretty thick."

"Well, to be honest, there's something I need to tell Sam, I'm just not sure how."

"I'm pretty sure you could tell Sam anything and he'd be understanding."

"Yes, well, maybe about some things. The topic I need to discuss is slightly out of my jurisdiction."

"What do you mean?"

"Has Joss ever talked about his mom's boyfriend? Carlo?"

"Briefly. Why?"

"When we were discussing his upcoming cruise with his mom, he mentioned that this Carlo gentleman would be going with them. He then told me that Carlo gets really mad when he loses at horse racing."

"He owns several resorts in the Caribbean. I don't know much about him, but it wouldn't surprise me if he were big into gambling."

"Evidently he's not just into gambling. Joss told me that he takes medicine - white powder medicine."

Gwen's eyes widened. "You think he's snorting coke? In front of Joss?"

"I don't think a six year old can make this stuff up."

"Sam will have him drawn and quartered," Gwen announced firmly.

"So you see, I'm not exactly in a position to -"

"Let me stop you right there." Gwen interrupted. "You are in a position. Joss revealed something to you - something that could place him in a dangerous situation. You have to tell Sam."

#

She stared up at the ceiling, waiting for the pain medicine to silence her pain and quiet her thoughts.

 _Gwen is right. You have to tell him. First thing the morning. If something were to happen to that precious little boy while he -_

Her internal monologue was halted by the sound of a text notification. She reached for her phone and glasses. Her heartbeat increased when she saw it was from Les.

 _Are you still awake? If so, will you call me?_

She hesitated, heart racing.

 _What is your problem? You're engaged to this man! You've shared your life with him for how many years now?_

A second text arrived-this time, a screenshot of the cover of Cosmo magazine, followed immediately by another text that said _Quiz Time!_

She exhaled loudly, not ready to engage in playful banter.

 _Take a breath._

 _Talk to him._

"What are you doing?" she asked when he answered.

"Catching up on some important reading."

"Cosmo?"

"Uh-huh."

"You're reading Cosmo?" she repeated.

"They have some really great articles," he informed her.

"Right. Like Playboy has some really great articles."

"No really. There's some very useful information in here. Especially about relationships. I'm learning a lot."

"And just what exactly possessed you to buy Cosmo?"

"I saw the cover and thought of you. The model looks like a younger version of you."

"So what type of article are you reading? 101 Ways to Flirt?" she asked.

"I got my Bachelor's in flirting, remember?" he teased.

"Then it's something ridiculous, like Have You Had Sex On His Desk? Surprising Your Man at the Office."

"I'm about to take a quiz. Well, I guess I should say you're about to take a quiz. It's called _Are You With Your Soulmate? Is Your Guy The One_?"

"You can't be serious." She forced a laugh, suddenly overcome with a very uncomfortable feeling.

He cleared his throat. "Question Number One. When you first met -"

"I am not taking this or any other quiz," she interrupted.

"Why not?" he asked

"Because I'm under the influence. I took a pain pill a few minutes ago. I might not have the wherewithal to finish this conversation."

"There's only a few questions. C'mon...humor me? I wanna see if I'm The Guy."

 _Well, Fate can't spell it out much clearer than that._

 _Your fiance wants you to take a soulmate quiz._

 _So now you have to ask yourself..._

 _Is he?_

 _Is he The One, Diane?_

 _You need to change the subject right now or end this call, lest you be a bigger liar._

"Les, it's late here and -"

"Diane, I'm just teasing you. I didn't even buy it. It was left in my hotel room. I found it in the entertainment console. I know how much you despise these types of magazines and I couldn't resist."

"Find me a quiz on Frank Lloyd Wright architecture or Jane Austen characters and I'm all yours."

"I hope you're all mine regardless," he added with a serious tone.

"Sam and Joss are leaving tomorrow for Italy," she blurted out.

"He's leaving you there? Alone? With a broken leg?"

"It's a sprained ankle and I won't be alone. Gwen is here. In fact, she'll be flying me back to New York."

"When do you think that will be?"

"My swelling is better. I need a few more days of rest and I should be ready to tackle the flight." She paused, keenly aware of his frustrations. "I know this hasn't been easy on you, but if we can make it through the next few days then I'll be home and we can -"

"I should have gone with you."

"Les, I'm fine."

"I should be there taking care of you."

"And what would you be doing that's not already being done?" she asked.

"Tending to all the delicious parts of you that aren't sprained," he said seductively.

#

2\. When we first met...

A. We didn't have a deep connection, and still act like that sometimes.

B. At least one of us knew right away we were meant for each other.

C. There were no sparks at first, but now that I have gotten to know him, he's everything I could ask.

D. It was love at first sight, even if I didn't want to admit it. Something deep inside my soul was ignited.

3\. Have you ever dreamed about your guy?

A. I had dreams about him before we even met.

B. He's the leading character in most of my dreams.

C. I dream about guys who are sexier than mine.

D. I dream more about my old flame than I do about my new guy.

4\. We met...

A. Purely by chance. Fate brought us together.

B. We met at a wedding.

C. We were introduced by a close friend or family member.

D. We were college sweethearts, co-workers, or had been previously acquainted.

5\. Did you ever get the feeling it was "meant to be"?

A. There were more than enough signs to make me feel like our meeting was no accident.

B. No harps or lightning bolts, but just tugs on the heartstrings and good times.

C. I definitely feel we were brought together for a great purpose.

D. I get that feeling at certain times, like when we have a particularly romantic evening together or I hear our song.

She leaned back against the headboard. Laptop perched on her thighs, she balanced on the edge of wakefulness, browser opened to Cosmopolitan magazine and Les's quiz. She knew it was stupid, but she found she was unable to respond to the quiz truthfully...at least not about Les. Every question brought to mind memories of her years with Sam.

 _He remembers that night at his cousin's wedding with the same sentimental clarity as you. The way he held you when you danced with him for the very first time. You were young and blissfully unaware of the hundreds of pairs of eyes on the two of you that starry night, as an aging wedding singer scored your love story with his best Van Morrison._

Her lips formed a shy smile and she continued reading the remaining questions.

6\. When we talked about our childhoods...

A. We had totally different childhoods. I can't relate.

B. It was like we lived parallel lives.

C. We conquered some of the same childhood issues.

D. I identified strongly with his feeling about his childhood even though my situation was somewhat different.

7\. When it comes to how we imagine our future together...

A. We want very different things out of life and it's unlikely we would enjoy working together.

B. Our talents blend together perfectly and we plan to contribute something meaningful to the world together.

C. It seems that we are together for a higher purpose, but we are still trying to figure out what it is.

D. In general, we want the same things out of life, because we hold the same values.

She re-read answer choice A. Her thoughts turned to Joss and the deep affection that she'd developed for him in such a short time. Sam had been desperate for children, proclaiming to everyone's surprise his plan to knock her up on their wedding night. She'd laughed it off of course, swatting his shoulder playfully and rolling her eyes. She quickly learned Sam wasn't kidding. His humorous jabs turned into pressure which turned into full blown resentment, lies, and deceit.

She finished all fifteen questions and tallied up her score-not that it mattered one bit. She certainly didn't need confirmation from Cosmo. She already knew the answer.

It had been collecting dust inside her secret room for twenty years.

With her computer powered down, she made final adjustments to her bedding and settled in for the night. The villa was quiet but the ocean was not. She focused on the sound of the waves as images of Sam and Les bounced around inside her head. Within minutes the pain pill took her, though not to a peaceful place. Her dreams were graphic and frightening - filled with downed planes, sinking cruise ships, and hobbled horses. Pregnant and scared, she was locked inside a hospital at one point, calling out for Joss. When she finally found him, his tiny body lay lifeless on a mountain of white powder. She woke up gasping for air and completely disoriented. It took a minute to remember where she was and what had happened to her.

She sat on the edge of the bed, drinking down a full glass of water with hasty gulps, heart pounding violently. She was groggy, but gripped with marked determination. She inched her way toward the foot of the bed where her crutches lay on the floor. She stood, feeling shaky. Twice she had to sit back down on the bed, unable to find the necessary balance to move toward the door. By the time she made it to the staircase, she was breathing hard. She surveyed the challenge ahead of her. Carefully, she took her time on each stair - unable to rush even if she'd wanted. By the time she made it to the top and down the hall to his bedroom, she was sweating profusely, light headed, and completely drained. Eyes closed, she fell against his door for support. Seconds later he opened the door, shocked to find her there.

"Diane! What the hell?" he scolded.

"I had a bad dream," she whispered, out of breath.

"Are you trying to break your neck?"

"He's a coke head, Sam. You can't let him go."

"What the hell are you thinking?" He wasn't even listening, so stunned to find her outside his door. "Climbing those stairs in the dark?"

"You're not listening. He can't go with him," she continued.

He looked at her pale face, wet with perspiration. "You need to lie down before you fall down." He guided her to over to his bed, still muttering reprimands while he helped her. He slipped into the bathroom and returned a minute later with a wet washcloth. He sat down beside her and held the cloth against her forehead.

"You've lost all your color. You're as white as this sheet."

"Listen to me. You can't let him go off with that man," she insisted.

"Who? What man?"

"I'm talking about Joss and that man."

"What man?"

"Marco."

"Diane, I don't know what you're talking about."

"Marco. You know, Silvia's boyfriend."

"You mean Carlo?"

"Carlo. Sorry. I can't think straight."

"Yes, well, maybe that's because you just climbed a flight of stairs in the dark, loaded up on Vicodin, after being on your back for two days straight." He raised his voice.

"Don't yell at me," she snapped.

"I'm not yelling," He spoke with a firm tone. "But I am mad as hell. You could have fallen, Diane. Broken your neck or worse."

"I wanted to tell you earlier, but Gwen came in and then you left. And you were pretty clear that you didn't want me to call you -"

"Hold on. Wanted to tell me what?"

"Joss told me that this Carlo guy takes white powder medicine."

"What? When? What did he say?"

"We were talking about his trip. He told me that Carlo doesn't like him and that when he gets mad, he takes his white powder medicine." She reached up, pulling his hand and the washcloth off her forehead. "I don't want Joss to go on the cruise, Sam."

"Carlo's been hanging around for about a year now. I've never met him, but from what I've seen and read on the internet, it wouldn't surprise me."

"I asked him if Silvia took the same medicine and he said no." She continued. "I just don't have a good feeling about this trip. I know it's none of my business, but -"

"I'll call Silvia in the morning," he reassured her.

"How can you be so calm about this? I thought for sure you'd be blowing up with this revelation."

"I've learned it's best not to react until all the pertinent facts are in hand."

"And you think Silvia will just come right out and admit it? That Carlo snorts coke in front of Joss?"

"No, but I think if I phrase my questions correctly, I'll find out what I need to know. Remember, I was once the sneakiest of the sneaky, back in my boozing days. I learned from Coach how to interrogate without it seeming like an interrogation. He sure got plenty of practice on me."

"I should have told you earlier. I just wasn't sure that...well, what I mean is that -"

He moved the washcloth back into place on her forehead. "I promise I'll take care of it in the morning."

He stared down at her, her face lit only by the faint light coming from the bathroom. Her lips were dry. The ends of her hair clung to the sweat on her neck. But her eyes - her eyes were filled with deep, legitimate concern for his son.

She'd never looked more beautiful to him than at that moment.

He reached for her hand. His thumb drew tiny circles on her warm skin. Her hands were soft and elegant and one of the first things he noticed about her the night they met. Of course there were other images of her hands that were burned into his memory. The way she brushed her hair back off her forehead. The way she tapped her fingers on the table, lost in deep thought. The feel of her fingers, dancing across his bare back in their darkened bedroom.

He knew these hands well...and had longed to hold them again this way for years.

"Sam," she began in a whisper.

The sound of his name on her parched lips touched a place inside him that he'd kept hidden from the world.

"Yes?"

"I-I'm not marrying Les," she announced.

Sam scanned her eyes, desperate for confirmation that her words weren't a distorted by-product of her medication.

"Does Les know this?" he asked cautiously.

"Not yet, but he will as soon as I get back to New York."

Again the room fell silent. Neither spoke for a long time. Then tears came to both of them. Sam released her hand, but only long enough to settle his body next to hers. Their faces just inches apart, his eyes trapped her and there was no running away.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" he asked softly, hand on her cheek.

"It's what I've always wanted," she answered.

He moved his hand through her hair and as he did, the peace she'd found the night before returned - the peace of lying beside him and listening to the sound of his breathing. It relaxed her completely, taking her back to the best nights of her life. Her own breathing slowed and soon her eyes fell closed.

"What do you want, Sam?" she asked softly, just before drifting off.

He let her question hang in the air. He wanted so many things - each and every one beginning and ending with her. And Joss. It was coming true, his dream of having a real family with Diane. For the moment though, he was happy and secure knowing that she wanted him. His mind returned to the night when he danced with a beautiful young woman to the envy of every other man underneath a white canvas tent.

"I wanna rock your gypsy soul...just like way back in the days of old...and together we will float...into the mystic" He whisper sang the words to their song, then pressed the back of her delicate hand to his lips.

 **You're smiling, aren't you?**


	17. Chapter 17

She woke to the sound of running water coming from the bathroom mixed with the faint notes of his melodic humming. Soon he and Joss would leave for the airport. Her thoughts cart-wheeled through the last few hours and she smiled. His smile, his touch, the softness of every word he spoke to her. She'd been lost and found all at the same moment, wrapped inside his quiet, familiar comfort.

She gave the toes on her injured foot a wiggle and was met with a pleasant surprise. The excruciating pain she'd felt to this point had subsided. Sitting up, she turned and let her legs dangle off the edge of the bed. Her eyes zeroed in on his boxers and plain white t-shirt, lying in a rumpled heap on the floor. She was struck with an enticing thought of joining him in the shower when the bathroom door opened. Sam peeked out and shared a sly but loving smile. She instantly smiled back at him.

"Morning," he said softly.

"Good morning," she answered.

The stubble on his chin was thick and beginning to grey. He'd always kept his face clean shaven though everyone joked he could probably grow a full beard overnight. His hair was a mess but he still had plenty of it. He looked much younger than his years, standing there in his robe.

"Going somewhere?" he inquired.

"No, but I think I've turned a corner."

He moved to inspect her ankle. "You're not ready for the Boston Marathon just yet, but your swelling has gone down a lot. And I've got something that will make you feel even better."

"What's that?"

"A little surprise."

She eyed him suspiciously. "What kind of a surprise? You have to leave pretty soon."

"We've got time," he assured her.

A soft knock on the door halted their conversation. Gwen entered with a tray of coffee and a selection of pastries. The enormous smile on the woman's face said everything - silent yet resounding approval of the previous night's sleeping arrangements. She was barely out of the room when Sam parked himself on the bed beside her. He selected the most appealing item on the tray and held it to her lips. She took a small bite, never taking her eyes off him.

"Why, Sam Malone...you never surprised me with breakfast in bed when we were married."

"I've trying to make up for lost time. How'm I doin?"

He brushed a crumb off her bottom lip before pressing his mouth to hers. They'd played it safe all night, sharing gentle touches and whispers, though she'd wanted nothing more than to lose herself with him.

"In baseball terms, I'd say you're batting a thousand," she confirmed.

"Are you ready for your surprise?"

"There's more?"

"I'm full of surprises."

"You're full of something..." she joked. "But I thought this was the surprise."

"A continental breakfast doth not a surprise make." He held a hand out to her.

"Where are we going?"

He gave her ankle another look. "Not far. In fact..." He moved the tray aside and slipped his arms around her.

"Oh no, don't even think about it, mister." she commanded. "You'll end up with a broken back."

"Too late."

Two seconds later he'd lifted her from his bed. She continued her verbal protest with each step he took toward the bathroom. Using her good foot, she pushed the door open and smiled. Every window shade was drawn, blocking out the rising sun. The room was warm, shining with the light of a dozen candles encircling the bubble-filled tub.

"Surprise," he whispered with pleased grin.

"I thought you were in here taking a shower."

"That's what you get for thinking," he teased, carefully settling her on the edge of the tub.

"Is it just me, or does something about this seem awfully familiar?" she asked.

"Are you having deja vu, Ms. Chambers?" He dipped his hand in the water and splashed her.

"A little bit, yes." She bit back a smile. "It started in a tub, just like this."

"Actually, we ended that night in your tub - the night we made it official. I carried you to your bed. I remember you were wearing a little pink silk nightie and God, did you look incredible."

"You know what I remember most about that night?"

"Aw, you're not gonna bring up the fight we had because I tossed all your stuffed animals out the window, are you? I apologized for weeks for that. I had Mr. Jammers professionally dry cleaned for crying out loud and-"

She silenced him with a finger pressed to his lips. "No, Sam. That's not what I remember. What I remember is how incredibly gentle you were that night, and every night thereafter."

"I didn't want that night to end." He locked on her eyes. "I didn't want any of this to end."

Sam had always been able to melt her with a touch or a kiss, but when he spoke from his heart, it rendered her completely helpless. The macho jock routine he projected to the world didn't exist when it was just the two of them. He was soft. Thoughtful. Honest. Vulnerable.

It only made her want him more.

She leaned in and kissed him, overcome with feelings that lay dormant for years. His arms held tight around her waist. His lips moved along her neck until he found it - the spot that made her weak. Her body responded immediately. Her hands disappeared inside his robe. As her fingers danced across his back, reality reared its ugly head inside her deepest thoughts. She was standing on the edge of a very dangerous cliff. The very cliff her mother warned her about.

She couldn't wait to jump off.

"Sam," She placed her palm against his bare, scarred chest, halting his advance. "There's something I need to tell you."

"Okay," he said with a heavy sigh.

"The body I have now is not the body I had then. I'm not the nubile young thing you once knew."

"I've watched you move all over this beach, Diane, and I can assure you, you have absolutely nothing to apologize for."

"No, Sam, I'm serious." She shot him a look.

"Can I let you in on a little secret?" he asked.

"Of course. You know you can tell me anything."

He tucked a lock of blond hair behind her ear. "I don't want Diane the girl. I want Diane the woman."

She stared into his eyes, seeing her own desire reflected in them. Twenty years had done nothing to lessen the stronghold he had her emotions.

 _You've only ever loved one man, Diane. What are you waiting for?_

"I'm gonna need some help out of these clothes," she whispered seductively.

"I'll go get Gwen." He winked as he pulled her grey tank over her head.

The care he took with her was just as gentle as the words he'd spoken. He helped her slide down into the warmth of the bubbles then removed his robe. It fell the floor and he struck a cheeky pose before slipping into the tub behind her. As soon as he wrapped his arms around her, her body relaxed. Sam kissed the top of her head before resting his cheek on it. They stayed that way for a long time, eyes closed, without speaking a word.

"Do you remember that scene in Out of Africa? The one where Robert Redford washed Meryl Streep's hair?" he asked, finally breaking the silence.

"Remember it? That's the sexiest hair washing scene ever recorded on film. I love that scene."

"It was a great scene." He moved his fingers through her hair. "Too bad that'll never happen to you."

"You're mean."

"And you love it."

They fell silent again and her mind dove into dark waters. Soon she'd be returning to New York and to her life with Les. She knew she'd break it off with him immediately, but she couldn't stand it. She didn't want to think about spending the coming days and nights without Sam, or the thought that he might somehow change his mind about renewing their relationship. As his fingers explored the contours of her body, her mind rolled back the years to that night when they made love for the first time. She longed for their relationship to return to the most intimate level. Until that time arrived, she'd take solace in the few euphoric minutes of his wet skin again hers.

"Sam?"

"Hmm?"

"Would you do me a favor?"

"Anything."

"Would you take off my necklace?"

Diane leaned forward and lifted her hair up off her neck. Sam carefully unhooked the chain and placed it on the side of the tub. The lone diamond pendant glistened in the candlelight.

"That's a beautiful stone," he commented. "Mr. College President certainly has excellent taste."

She was completely taken aback by his comment. He'd made quips about Les before, in relation to her engagement ring and such, but there was something different this time. This time his tone was laced with a hateful sarcasm.

"He's a really nice guy, Sam. Honestly, you'd like him. He's funny. He's got a razor-sharp, dry sense of humor. He's athletic too. And smart. Incredibly smart in fact. In another life, you'd probably be good fr-"

"I get it, Diane," he cut her off. "You sure know how to pick 'em."

And just like that, the wheels started to fall off of their picture perfect moment.

 _Well, Mother, did you ever nail it. Men are jealous...to an unbelievable fault._

 _Let it go, Diane. Take a deep breath. Change the subject. Do not engage. You know it won't end well if you do._

Her internal debate didn't last long. Her strong will won out and she refused to stay silent.

"I strive to surround myself with decent, caring, but above all secure individuals." She fired back, her disgusted tone clear.

She leaned forward until her body was no longer touching his. He reached for her shoulder, but she flinched and pulled away.

"I may have spent the night in your bed, Sam Malone, but I'm not going to sit here and let you beat up on a good man that you've never even met."

"Diane, I'm sorry. Listen, sweetheart, I -"

"He's done nothing wrong." Her eyes filled with guilty tears. "He's a good man and he's done nothing wrong...except fall in love with a liar."

#

The fasten seatbelt sign lit up, followed immediately by the captain's voice. Soon she'd be back on U.S. soil and back to her life as the future Mrs. Leslie Meredith. Throughout the duration of sixteen hours worth of flights she'd tried desperately to devise a game plan...and had failed miserably. She couldn't stop the scene of the two of them that last morning, playing on a loop in her mind. She rested her head against the small window and stared down at the world below. She'd be looking into Les's eyes in a few minutes. It pained her to know that every aspect of their happy reunion would be a lie.

A lie on her part, at least.

"Won't be long now," Gwen said, touching Diane's arm.

"Looks like we'll have quite the drive ahead of us with all this weather." She noted the grey skies.

"Couldn't you stay in the city? For tonight at least? I can't imagine you sitting in a car for another three plus hours."

"The Big Apple is far better on two good legs." She sighed. "I just want to go home."

"I understand." The woman responded with another squeeze of her arm. "But I wish you would have let me book us a connecting flight to Ithaca. I promised Sam I would see you all the way home - door to door service," she said with a grin.

"You've been beyond generous but you deserve a rest. We'll make the drive back this evening. It will be fine. I will be fine. And you'll be enjoying a lovely suite and a Broadway show with your niece and her husband."

"Things did work out rather serendipitously for me, didn't they?" Gwen considered.

"I rarely have last minute luck like that," Diane said with an eyeroll.

Gwen had been her sole companion in the days since Sam and Joss departed for Italy. They'd spent four additional days at the villa together, making travel plans and talking like old friends. She hadn't shared the ugly particulars of those final hours with her ex-husband. Gwen continued to wear an unusually large grin whenever Sam's name fell into their conversation. She didn't have the heart to tell her that they'd parted on strained terms. So strained, in fact, that she and her ex-husband had only exchanged one text message during his absence - and that had been to confirm his safe arrival in Italy. The confusion she'd felt before fumbling her way up to his room and into his bed had increased exponentially.

"The flight attendant promised that she'd have a wheelchair at the ready as soon as everyone has deplaned."

"I honestly don't know how I can ever thank you. I know this wasn't how you expected to spend your time in Greece-taking care of me."

"It's been an absolute joy to spend time with you. I just wish it wasn't at the expense of your ankle. How's it feeling, by the way?"

"So much better than I thought it would be. This air cast has made all the difference - and you. I honestly don't know what I would have done without you," she added warmly.

"Promise me that you'll see an orthopedist as soon as you can."

"I don't have to promise. Les has already made an appointment."

"Diane..." Gwen paused for a moment.

"Yes?"

The Captain's voice boomed once more, interrupting the moment as he called for the crew to make final preparations for landing. Diane looked into Gwen's eyes. They were filled with unspoken words and a motherly affection.

"Nothing. Never mind," the woman replied with shake of her head.

#

Les checked his watched for the umpteenth time, then glanced nervously at the clock behind the counter. It seemed to be taking forever. He'd been sitting near the security checkpoint for nearly an hour. His heart was beating fast and he noticed that his hands were a little sweaty. In a matter of minutes, a plane would touch down, bringing with it a breath of fresh air. He closed his eyes and recalled every detail of her face. He couldn't wait to hold her and fall back in step. He'd made himself a solemn vow - to remain upbeat and positive and not dissect every aspect of her trip. At least not the Sam Malone aspects. He longed to return to their own slice of normalcy - to see her sitting across the breakfast table, drinking coffee and reading the newspaper. He missed her laugh and her smile. Something about that smile, coupled with those sparkling eyes of hers. She was radiant and much younger than her fifty-plus years.

Her flight number finally appeared on an overhead screen. The airport was a zoo. There was no point in trying to fight his way through the crowd. He walked to the back of the herd and carved out a spot to wait. Arms folded across his chest, he leaned against a nearby pole. Carefully he began scanning the group, knowing she would probably be among the last to make it off her flight. Several more minutes passed until finally, the once large crowd dwindled to a handful. He took a few steps forward in anticipation. And then he saw her. Carry-on bag balanced on her lap, she maneuvered a wheelchair through the collection of travelers like a pro. An older woman walked beside her, carrying a tote bag and a pair of crutches. They were laughing and talking in animated fashion. He couldn't help but smile.

He had a feeling it would be a day full of smiles.

He strode toward them with eager steps. His eyes met hers and they looked at each other for several seconds, each waiting for the other to speak. Les just wanted to slowly take in the moment and savor it to its fullest. He bent down and kissed her lightly on both cheeks.

"Welcome back," he whispered in her ear.

Introductions were made and the three exchanged pleasantries for a couple of minutes. Les took Diane's bag and her crutches and they continued to talk as they made their way to baggage claim. Gwen's niece and her husband found them shortly after they'd retrieved their luggage. Invitations were extended to stay in the city, but Diane and Les politely declined. She was definitely feeling the effects of too many miles on one bad leg. All she wanted was to climb into her own bed and sleep for about three days.

"Gwen, I can't thank you enough for taking care of my lady," Les offered his hand.

"She's a special person." Gwen looked at Diane, again with motherly affection. "You make sure she follows up with a doctor."

"I promise to do just that." He nodded.

The older woman turned toward Diane. "You're going back to the doctor whether you want to or not. He's promised."

"I won't fight you - either of you," she conceded.

Diane held out both hands. Gwen took them in hers and squeezed them tightly. The two women shared a silent conversation with their eyes. It only lasted a few seconds, but was powerful nonetheless. Gwen bent down and they shared a warm, loving embrace.

"Guilt is a rope that binds like nothing else," Gwen whispered in her ear. "Best to cut yourself loose - and soon."

 **C'mon...you knew I wasn't going to make this easy.**


	18. Chapter 18

" _Please stay," Sam asked, eyes full of sincerity._

" _Why should I?" Diane turned away with a dismissive flip of her hair._

" _Go on, get out! Get out, go on!" he commanded, pointing to his office door._

" _Hey, I'm not sticking around here just in the hope that maybe something will happen between us."_

" _What is it you want from me?" he asked, exasperated._

" _I want you to tell me what you want." She zeroed in on his eyes._

" _I'll tell you what I want. I'll tell you exactly what I want." He hesitated a moment. "I want to know what you want."_

" _You're doing it again," she said with a frustrated sigh._

" _Listen, look, will you just explain one thing to me. It is very important to me. Why aren't you with Derek?"_

" _Because I like you better."_

" _Aw, Diane, listen." He turned her around. "All the jealousy I felt for my brother over the years is nothing to what I've felt these last five minutes."_

" _Oh Sam." She giggled. "I think we're about ready to start something that might be kind of great, huh?"_

" _Yeah...yeah, yeah." A smile grew on his lips. "Maybe we should, uh, kiss or something, huh?"_

" _No, we're not gonna just kiss."_

" _We're about to start something. I mean, a kiss is where you start, isn't it?"_

" _But you don't make an announcement when you're about ready to kiss someone romantically."_

" _No, no, it wasn't an announcement. I just didn't want to catch you off guard, that's all."_

" _On our first kiss it's okay to be off guard. You should be swept away."_

" _Well I was, I was," he reassured her._

" _Nobody's swept away when they have the presence of mind to say maybe we should kiss."_

" _All right, all right. You're right, you're right. Uh, all right, when I do it, I, uh, I won't say anything."_

 _He reached for Diane but she pulled away, making the moment seem that much more awkward._

" _No, no, this isn't right either," she protested._

" _Hey, I didn't say anything. I was swept away." He stretched his arms out wide, hoping to convince her of his sincerity._

" _Let's face it, the moment's not right. We're, we're, we're too aware of what we're doing."_

" _All right, all right. You're right, you're right. I mean, this whole thing is not going the way it should."_

" _No," she agreed._

" _Maybe we should just forget about the kiss and hit the sack," he teased._

 _She rolled her eyes and shook her head, clearly annoyed._

" _This is the dumbest conversation we have ever had, which means it's the dumbest conversation that's ever been."_

" _Maybe this whole thing is just a mistake, huh?"_

" _What whole thing?"_

" _Well, this, this whole thing we're trying to do here. I mean every time we try to get together something goes wrong. I mean look, look, just, just 'cause I'm a neat looking guy and you're kinda hungry at the moment doesn't mean-"_

" _Hungry?" She stood and whipped around to face him._

" _No, no, no, no, don't-listen, listen, what I mean by that is, you've been here a long time. Now if something were just gonna naturally happen it would've happened by now. It's silliness to try to make it happen."_

" _Oh fine! You tell me this now that I've let Derek go."_

" _No, don't throw Derek in my face, now you never cared for Derek. You just used him to trap me._

" _Trap you?"_

" _Yeah, that's right."_

" _I'm the best thing that could have happened to you and you're too stupid to realize it," she shouted._

" _Are you kidding me? You are the worst thing that happened to me and before you came here I was a happy man!" he snapped angrily._

" _You honestly believe you were happier before you met me than you are now?"_

" _Hell yes!" He raised his hands in utter frustration. "How do you think it feels to be attracted to someone that makes you sick?"_

" _I could write a book on the subject," she shot back coldly._

" _You can't shut up long enough to write a check. You know, as a matter of fact, you can't shut up at all."_

" _You are trying to change the subject."_

" _No I'm not, no I'm not. The subject is you can't shut up long enough to kiss me."_

 _Diane folded her arms and turned away._

" _To save your life, I bet you couldn't shut up for thirty seconds. Make it ten," he taunted._

 _Twice he timed her and twice she failed, unable to stop muttering under her breath about the entire idiotic display._

" _All right, so I can't do it! Silence is overrated anyway. At least I have something to say," she said with conviction._

" _Meaning I don't?"_

" _The last conversation I had with Derek was about walking on the moors like Heathcliff and Catherine...and I threw it all away for this."_

" _Good, I'll tell you what you do, I'll tell you what you do. Why don't you just go find Derek? It was more statement than question-and one that sounded like a dare._

" _Fine," she answered emphatically._

" _It shouldn't be too hard to find him. Just follow the sound of applause."_

" _Maybe I will. Maybe I can still catch him."_

The doorbell chimed a second time, pulling him from the disconnect realm of jet-lagged induced dreams. He'd tumbled through a string of crazy dreams in the hours since he'd returned to Boston. Burying a stillborn baby in a grave marked with Coach's name. Silvia crashing at a Nascar event. Hiding from a dark figure inside the library of his old high school. But none were as vivid or disturbing as Diane leaving him for his older brother, Derek.

"I'm coming, I'm coming! Jeezus!" Sam hollered as he hustled down the stairs. He threw open the front door, shocked to find one of his oldest and dearest friends standing on the other side.

"Carla?" he said, dumbfounded.

"Hey Sam. I'm sorry to bother you so late. I hope I didn't wake up the little man."

"Of course you're not bothering me. And Joss is with Silvia for a couple of weeks. Come in, come in."

Sam ushered her into his living room. He made offers of food and beverage but she declined. Sam poured himself a club soda and settled in on the sofa across from her.

"You haven't answered my texts." She fired the first shot.

"Yeah, sorry. It's been crazy, what with flying Joss to Italy and then back here."

"When did ya get back?" she asked.

"Last night," he answered. "My body clock is still out of whack. I didn't even realize I'd fallen asleep until you rang the doorbell."

A strange silence erupted. Based on her face and body language, Sam wondered if Carla had bad news share.

"Is everything okay?" he pressed. "It's not like you to just show up unannounced. I mean, don't get me wrong, you know you're always welcome."

"No, everything's fine. I came to see how you're doing. We'd barely said goodbye to Coach before you were off on a plane to Greece. Norm and Cliff and I have been worried sick about you, Sam. You don't know how many times I picked up the phone to call you. Of course, I knew you and Joss were in good hands, seeing as how you were with Gwen."

"And Diane," he added, curious to see her reaction.

"What do you mean, _and Diane_?"

"Diane was there. She met us in Greece."

"With her fiance?" she questioned?

"No, no...it was just Diane alone," he confirmed.

"Oh, I see." Carla looked away.

Sam knew by Carla's expression that he would need additional ammo to fight off her protests. He politely excused himself and jogged back upstairs. He returned a few minutes later with a small box in hand. He placed in on the coffee table in front of her.

"What's this?" she asked.

"Coach's last request."

"What do you mean?"

"Open the box and see for yourself," he encouraged.

With a gentle hand Carla opened the box and peeked inside.

"You can take them out, it's okay," he reassured her.

Carla pulled the stack of letters from the box, tears welling in her eyes.

"Oh Sam…" Carla traced the handwriting of her precious departed friend. "When did he...?"

"He started writing to us right after he was diagnosed. I had no idea they existed until the morning after he passed. It took me a few days but I finally made it through every one."

"Coach gave you a lot over the years, but these…" her voice trailed off.

"You can read them if you want, I honestly don't mind."

"No," she carefully returned them to the box. "These are for your eyes only, Sam - private thoughts that Coach left only for you."

"You know, he left Diane a stack as well. It was Coach's final wish that she and I return to Greece together to scatter his ashes. He had this idea that Diane and I...well, you know."

Carla focused on her watchband for a moment, avoiding his eyes.

"It's all Coach ever wanted. You know that, right? All he ever wanted was your happiness. You were the son he never had, Sam. And that love only grew after Lisa died. You were his family, in every way."

"It's funny, you know? My own family walked away from me during my drinking days but Coach never did." Sam swallowed hard, thinking back to happier times. "He never gave up on me. He never gave up on anyone."

The silence returned, heavier than before. He and Carla shared a unique history of their own. The tough, unaffected, streetwise broad she projected to the world was in truth a deeply caring and feeling woman. A minute passed before she spoke up, getting at the heart of the matter with laser precision.

"She's not gonna marrying him, is she? Diane and her fiance, I mean," she asked calmly.

"I honestly don't know." Sam exhaled heavily.

"When you and Diane split up, you almost killed yourself." She dropped her eyes for a moment. "Coach was strong enough to handle you back then...I don't know if I am."

"I don't need to be handled. I'm not that man anymore, Carla. You said so yourself, remember? You've said it a million times."

"Yeah, Joss changed you and in all the best ways. Being a father has made you a better man - a safer man. But this is Diane we're talking about. Rational thought doesn't exist when she gets inside your head."

"Aw c'mon, now that's not fair."

"You drank yourself into a hospital after your divorce. I can't bear to watch you torture yourself again. And for the record, I'm not saying this because there was once bad blood between me and Diane. You know that we moved way past all that. Diane and I became good friends when you were married. The sparring co-workers routine was fine for the bar, but this is me, Sam - your friend of almost thirty years. I care about you...and Diane. You had a good thing once - better than any of us ever expected, but I honestly don't think you'd survive another failed relationship. And I don't think Diane would either. I can't watch you ruin each other again."

Though Carla spoke with a soft, calm tone, her words were heavy and direct.

"Things are different now between Diane and me," he countered.

Her eyes narrowed. "Different how?"

"I don't know how to describe it exactly. We understand each other - I mean, truly understand each other for the first time. It's like we've both grown up. There was always this, I don't know, this competition or something between us. Now it's just two people who really listen to each other. It's not about winning or having the last word anymore."

Sam continued to talk, opening up to Carla about everything that happened in Greece - from the to the night they spent together in Joss's bed to hours of honest talk on a sunset beach to their painfully quiet goodbye scene. The more he shared, the more he regretted his actions the morning he left the island. He and Diane had barely talked in the days since...and it was slowly killing him.

"She still makes you feel all squooshy inside, doesn't she?" Carla asked with a supportive smile.

"Honestly, Carla, she's the only woman who ever did...and I may have ruined our chance to start over."

"Why don't you just call her? If everything you've told me about your time together in Greece is true, then you two can work this out."

"She's gonna need some time to, you know, get her affairs in order with Les. That could take a while. I don't want to rush her."

"Well, I know just the thing to keep you busy in the meantime." Carla grinned.

"What's that?"

"We gotta whip this bachelor pad into shape, Sammy. I realize Diane is a professional designer and all, but come on. We don't want to scare her off." She gave a nod to the stack of old Sports Illustrated magazines collecting dust on the coffee table.

"You're not a fan of sports-inspired rustic?"

"It doesn't bother me in the least, but you're not courting me. I say you start right there." She pointed to the framed piece hanging on the wall about the fireplace.

"Why does no one appreciate my choice in artwork?" he huffed.

"Dogs playing poker is not art, Sam...not even by my standards," she teased with a wink.

#

His hand fumbled on the nightstand as he searched for his cell, buzzing loudly. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the brightness of the screen. A wave of worry slammed against him when he saw it was his second ex-wife's name on the Caller ID.

"Silvia?" he answered, voice full of alarm. "What's wrong?"

"It's me, Daddy," Joss replied.

"Hey slugger, is everything okay? Are you on the ship?"

"Not yet. Silvia said I could talk to you one more time because we'll be too busy later."

"You're going to have a great time."

"Silvia is real mad because Carlo's driver isn't here yet. All of our bags were outside and it started raining and her Louie Batons are all wet. She and Carlo had a big fight about it."

"Well, your mom has always been a sucker for fine leather goods and a stickler for staying on a schedule."

"Daddy, I don't want to go," the boy confessed quietly.

"Joss, don't start. Now we talked about this."

"I want to come home," the boy whined.

"Has something happened?" Sam sat up, a strange feeling in his gut.

"No."

"Are you sure?" he questioned again.

"I'm sure."

"Is is Carlo?"

"No sir."

"Then I don't understand."

"I just don't like boats," Joss replied.

Sam forced himself not to laugh. "Are you kidding me? You love boats. It was your idea, remember? Your mom asked what you'd like to do during your time together and you told her you wanted to go on a cruise again. And now you got your wish. Do you know how many kids would give their right arms to be doing what you're doing? You're going to have so much fun."

"But I already went on a trip, remember?"

Sam could see him, wearing that knowing expression that went well beyond his years.

"Yes, but that was with me. Your mom wants to spend some time with you too. And I already stayed two extra days with you at Silvia's house. Now it's her turn to get to have you all to herself."

"But you're all by yourself...without Coach."

Sam's heart swelled as he realized the real reason for his son's call. "I happen to be working on a plan to _not_ be all by myself."

"What kind of plan? Joss asked.

"What would think about Diane coming to live here with us, in Boston?"

"You mean instead of Gwen?" The boy's voice filled with excitement.

"Well, Gwen can stay too, if she likes. She's family."

"Is Diane at our house right now?"

"No, no, she's at her house in New York but I'm hoping she'll be here soon. I'm still working on that part."

"If I come home now I can help you," he suggested.

"Joss, if we're gonna have any shot with Diane, I've gotta strike out on my own first. Do you understand what I mean?" Sam asked, touched by the hope in his son's voice.

"Do you think she wants to marry us?" Joss asked.

"I don't know. I think so. We haven't really talked about marriage exactly. But we still love each other and we want to be together - and that means all of us, as a family."

"Why can't we be a family right now?"

"Because you'll be on a boat with your mom."

"I wish you and Diane could come with us."

"Somehow I don't think your mom or Carlo would care much for that plan."

"Is Diane gonna be at our house when I get back?"

"If I play my cards right, she will."

"Are you going _all in_?" the boy asked enthusiastically.

"How do you know about going _all in_?" He couldn't hide his smirk.

"Coach," they answered in unison. Sam shook his head with a chuckle.

"If you get married again then she'll be my real mom, won't she?" Joss asked after a long pause.

"No, she'll be your step-mom. Silvia is your real mom. She gave birth to you."

"I thought real moms were the ones that loved you and lived with you all the time."

Sam stared at the framed photo of his son beside his bed. He zeroed in on his eyes, filled with love and laughter. They screamed Silvia in every way, in color and expression. It was moments like this that Sam found forgiveness and silently blessed his ex-wife a million different ways for giving him this child.

"That's how the Velveteen Rabbit became real. Because the boy loved him. Right, Daddy?" Joss added.

"You're absolutely right." He smiled, his heart filled with pride. "One hundred percent."

 **Come on and show a sister some love. You know this chapter gave you all the feels.**


	19. Chapter 19

"Diane, darling we're here." Les whispered, gently nudging her shoulder.

Slowly she opened her eyes. The lights from his Land Rover bounced off the trees and into the windows of their stately home. All the outside floods were lit, welcoming her back with their soft, inviting glow.

"Oh my gosh." She yawned. "How long was I out?"

"About two and a half hours."

"I am so sorry," she apologized.

"For what?"

"For forcing you to ride home in silence. And we were going to stop for dinner at that new little tapas place."

"It's fine. I know you're worn out. We'll order in."

"Pepperoni with mushroom and black olives from Ned's?" she suggested hopefully.

"Anything you like," he reassured her with a smile.

The heavy rain that fell outside Newark had thankfully not followed them all the way home. He made sure she was settled safely inside before retrieving her luggage. Alone in their bedroom, she rifled through her suitcase, shocked to discover an unexpected stowaway. Lovingly she nestled the soft, stuffed shark against her chest. She pulled her phone from her purse and checked it covertly, anxious for a message from Sam. She found two texts...both from her mother.

 _Are you home? Hope you're not in too much pain._

 _Hope your ankle is okay too._

She bit her lip. Of course she knew her mother's words were made in jest, but they hit entirely too close and reminded her of Gwen's parting words.

With a quick glance over her shoulder, she typed a short reply before sending a similar message to Sam.

 _Finally home. Exhausted. Let me know when you can talk._

She'd texted him just minutes before she and Gwen boarded in Athens. He'd yet to respond. She tried not to read too much into it, but shadows of doubt were beginning to settle.

 _You've traveled all day and you're brain dead. Stop worrying. Besides, he's only been back in Boston a day himself. He'll call when things settle down._

"A bottle of red? A bottle of white?" Les hollered from the kitchen.

"It all depends upon your appetite," she called back, quoting Billy Joel's famous lyrics back to him. He didn't respond and she remained silent, continuing to type.

Found a friend in my suitcase. That Gwen is a sneaky one. When you talk to Joss, let him know that Kenny is safe and sound.

She jumped a minute later when she felt his hands on her shoulders.

"You scared me." She tossed her cell on their bed as nonchalantly as possible and turned toward him.

"Who was that?" he asked, eyeing her phone.

"My mother. Just letting her know I made it home in one piece."

"And who is this?" He reached for the stuffed animal.

"That would be Kenny, the globe-trotting shark." She couldn't hold back a smile, thinking of the magnitude of the boy's sweet gesture. "He belongs to Joss, but somehow made his way into my bag."

"I called Ned's. They're pretty busy. Could be forty-five minutes, maybe longer. Think you'll last that long?" He dropped the toy into her open suitcase without comment.

"I'm fine, really. It'll give me time to clean up. I'm ready to wash all this air travel off me."

"I can you help you with that, you know." His arms encircled her waist.

The phone beside the bed rang. Les exhaled heavily and shook his head.

"What?" Diane asked.

"Since I've been back home it hasn't rang one time. You've been home all of five minutes..." He smiled as he backed away and reached for the receiver. Just a few seconds into the call, Diane knew it was her mother calling.

"Actually she just sent you a text, but yes, she is here and in one piece. Let me put her on." He held the phone out. "Red or white? What sounds good?" he asked again in a whisper.

"Surprise me," she replied as she took the phone. "Exhausted and in need of a long shower, but definitely in one piece," she greeted her mother.

They spent several minutes chatting about her injury and the return trip before Helen Chambers went in for the kill.

"What's the weather like?"

"It rained on us for about an hour outside of Newark. It was really coming down but -"

"I'm not talking about Mother Nature." The woman lowered her voice. "I mean, how are things with you and Les?"

"Everything fine," Diane sighed. "And you don't have to whisper."

"Everything's not fine, so I'll ask again. How are things with you and Les?"

"I know you'd love nothing more than a full briefing, but I'm not in the mood to deliver a state-of-the-union address," Diane replied with displeasure. "I've been home less than ten minutes."

"So you haven't talked? About your time apart?" Helen pressed.

"I slept almost the entire way home."

"Have you told him about Sam?"

"Mother, my contacts are dry as a bone, I need wine in an IV, and I haven't unpacked my suitcase. So no, we haven't discussed anything other than the toppings I want on the pizza we just ordered."

The conversation slipped into silence for an excruciating sixty seconds.

"The sooner, the better, darling," Helen finally responded.

"Let me ask you a question. How long did you wait to tell Daddy about Robert?" Diane shot back. "I have a feeling that you didn't just hop off a plane with the announcement that you'd slept with your ex-husband."

"Well, no, of course not."

"And more importantly, what makes you so sure I have anything to tell?"

"Because you're my daughter... and the apple doth not fall far."

"I'm hanging up now, Helen," she said firmly. "And you're wrong, by the way."

"Don't pick at the Band-Aid. Just rip it off and be done."

"Goodbye, Mother."

She ended the call, heart beating furiously. Twice in the span of a few hours, two women she cared about had delivered essentially the same advice. It was more than just mere coincidence. This thought and many more followed her into the bathroom. She flipped the shower to the hottest setting, parked herself on the edge of the tub, and freed her leg from the walking boot. Her injury still showed bruising, but looked surprisingly better than she expected. Carefully she began to peel off her wrinkled clothes when Les entered.

"Diane!" Les raised his voice. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I told you, I'm taking a shower."

"On one leg?" He leaned against the vanity with a smirk. "That's your plan?"

"Maybe..."

"I've got a better plan." He turned the shower off and began filling the tub. "Get out of those clothes and into a bath. I'll be back with your beverage and you can soak until the pizza gets here."

He tossed her favorite bath bomb into the vintage claw foot tub and kissed the top of her head on his way out. She sat immobile, listening to the sound of water and the guilty thoughts banging in her head. The water began to cloud with milky shades of blue and purple, but her memories of Sam and their last morning together were clear. She continued to undress, willing herself to turn her brain off and just decompress. She slipped into the tub just as Marty Balin's voice echoed through the recessed speakers overhead. It made her smile, remembering the days long stupid argument that had occurred a few years before. Les never asked for much in the way of things and it wasn't like they couldn't afford it. Thus their beautiful house on the Hudson was outfitted with the most cutting edge stereo system money could buy, inside and out.

It truly was beautiful. The minute they pulled up in the driveway, she knew it would be the perfect home for the two of them. Together they'd lovingly designed each room. Les had a real passion for interior design and a fantastic eye for detail, which sat in deep contrast to her former husband. The most she'd ever gotten from Sam had been an obedient nod and a statement of the obvious. _You're the expert, Diane._

" _And if you knew how much I need you_ ," he sang along to the stereo as he entered their bathroom, wine glasses in hand. " _Oh I need you like the air. If someone should take you from me, I would run, run, run, runaway..._ "

"I went red," he announced proudly.

"Wise choice."

"Music okay? Too loud?" he asked.

"No, it's fine," she forced a smile.

They both fell silent and a strange feeling washed over her. He'd always been attentive, but something about his demeanor was different. She felt he was walking on eggshells - as if he knew everything that had happened between her and Sam in Greece and he was waiting for the release of the proverbial shoe.

A dozen more thoughts pelted her mind like rain. The sound of the doorbell saved her.

"Surely that's not Ned's," she remarked. "You just called in our order."

"Who knows, maybe we got lucky," he replied with a grin.

He backed out, closing the door behind him. Alone again, she wrestled with herself.

 _What's it going to be? Ask him to join you? A repeat of the bath scene with Sam?_

 _Don't forget how that ended._

 _Are you just going to play nice until you work up the courage to tell him the truth?_

 _You know you can't sleep with him again, Diane. It will only compound the pain._

 _As much as you hate to admit it, Helen is right._

 _The sooner you tell him the truth, the sooner you can move on and start a new life._

 _With Sam._

 _And Joss._

 _If that's truly what you want._

 _If that's what Sam still wants._

Eyes closed, she let her mind wander, envisioning the supposed outcomes that might occur once she told Les. She imagined everything from violent screaming to stone silence. Honestly, she had no idea how he might react. It seemed odd that he'd not asked anything about the trip other than the details of the plane ride home. Again she lingered on a familiar question.

 _Does he suspect?_

Several minutes passed and the water began to cool. Carefully she managed to get herself out of the tub. She stared at her reflection in the mirror as she dried the ends of her hair, zeroing in on the diamond pendant that lay against her chest. It had been a gift from him and a painful one at that. Following her fall and miscarriage, Les had whisked her away for a long weekend in Napa as soon as doctors had given her the all clear to travel. Les presented her with the sparkling gem in the hopes of lifting her spirits and nudging her to move forward. She'd felt obligated to wear it everyday since, though she wanted nothing more than to forget that dark moment.

 _Isn't it time you stopped all the lies? Just be honest._

 _With Les._

 _With Sam._

 _With yourself._

"What are you doing?" He stuck his head in the bathroom door. "You didn't even wait for me."

"You know this tub's too small for both of us, especially when I'm operating on fifty percent leg capacity."

"I was going to give you the Meryl treatment." His face fell into disappointment as he pulled a Tupperware pitcher from behind his back - a relic from his bachelor days in an appalling shade of orange. "You know, Out of Africa style?"

Diane's heart pounded as she recalled the feel of Sam's arms locked tight around her wet body.

 _"Do you remember that scene in Out of Africa - the one where Robert Redford washed Meryl Streep's hair?" he asked, finally breaking the silence._

 _"Remember it? That's the sexiest hair washing scene ever recorded on film. I love that scene."_

 _"It was a great scene." He moved his fingers through her hair. "Too bad that'll never happen to you."_

 _"You're mean."_

 _"And you love it."_

"Diane?" Les gave her a sideways look. "Darling, are you okay?"

"What?" She realized she was staring right through him, her mind back on a small Greek island. "Oh, I'm sorry."

"And that, Ladies and Gentlemen, is what is medically referred to as desynchronosis - good old jet lag. If that pizza doesn't show up soon, you'll be having it for breakfast. I give you a half hour before you're lights out."

"Who was at the door?" she asked, eager to change the subject.

"UPS, with a little surprise." He flashed a mischievous smile.

"A surprise? For me?" she asked.

"Well..." he hesitated. "I'd say it's more for us."

The house phone rang again. Les made another quip about her demanding public before retreating. Alone again with just her reflection, she studied her own eyes, filled with equal parts fear and self-loathing.

#

Les was at the door paying the delivery driver when she made her post bath appearance. To her surprise, the dining room table had been set with their fine china and crystal and the only light that shone was that of a handful of taper candles housed in antique brass holders in the center.

"Your dinner, Madam." He placed the pizza box on the table with a humble bow.

"My goodness. I certainly wasn't expecting all this," she remarked.

"Between the death of your friend and your ankle woes, you deserve something special."

Diane filled their plates as Les poured the wine. He asked general questions about her time in Greece - the weather, beach conditions, the day she'd spent at sea with Coach. Never once was Sam's name mentioned. Diane knew he was trying his best to keep to keep the conversation light and engaging, but she couldn't deny it - it was the most awkward meal they'd ever shared. When changed the subject to his time at the Denver conference and general university business and he seemed to relax a bit. At one point she heard the faint sounds of a text notifications coming from her cell in their bedroom. Her heart pounded with the thought it might be Sam. Summoning every ounce of restraint she could muster, she kept her attention focused on Les, as though her thoughts were there with him and not on her ex-husband.

"Oh, I almost forgot. You will not believe who I ran into in the Denver airport."

"Who?" she asked.

"Nancy Allen," he replied with a smile.

"Nancy Allen?" Diane paused, scanning her brain for a face to accompany the name. "You don't mean _the_ Nancy Allen? From the New York Philharmonic?"

"The very one. And you want to know the kicker? _She_ recognized _me_. We met at a Yale event a while back - we were seated at the same table at a dinner. We really hit it off that night and talked at length about music and education. He father was a public school teacher. Anyway, she approached me in the airport and we talked for about fifteen minutes."

"Famous, talented, and nice. That's a rare combination these days."

"That's not all. She asked about what was happening in my life and of course I told her all about you and our engagement and then I asked her, jokingly of course, if she knew any good harpists who might want to play at our wedding and then she said, _well why not me?"_

"Nancy Allen said she'd play the harp at our wedding?" Diane said with full astonishment. "Surely she was kidding."

"She wasn't kidding. I told her I'd have to consult with the bride first, but yes, she was one hundred percent serious."

"Does this have something to do with the surprise from earlier? The UPS delivery?"

"No, no, that's something else entirely." He smirked as he pushed his chair away from the table.

He excused himself and returned a minute later with a large, flat box, still wearing the same smirk.

"What's this?" Diane eyed the box.

"A little something I'd like to get your opinion on."

He quickly cleared the table then placed the box squarely in front of her. His eyes were filled with pride and excitement, which increased both her curiosity and her guilt.

"Well, go on," he instructed. "Have a look."

#

"I can't tell you how many times I've thought about this moment. I've missed you so much - the feel of your skin and your mouth and your hands. I know you're completely wiped out and to be honest, I didn't expect this." He drew little circles on her bare shoulder.

"I'm so sorry," she interrupted.

"Please stop. No more apologies. That's all you've done since you've been home. I know things have been tense between us but I'm ready to move past all that. " He drew a deep breath. "This is all I wanted, to find our way back to each other. Your body feels so good, Diane."

She wanted to tell him the same - that his body was her refuge. That he was all she ever needed. That she'd dreamed of this moment for days. But she'd already told too many lies. And now, lying beside him and thinking of another man hundreds of miles away was just one more. A slight pinch of pain still lingered in her neck and she sat up, in need of a little space.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"It's my neck. It's been bothering me for a few days now," she mumbled as she inched toward the edge of the bed. "And it's so hot in here. Are you hot? Because I'm burning up."

"Do you want me to get you something? Ibuprofen?" he asked.

"No, I can get it."

"No, you rest. I'll get it for you."

"Actually, I need to get up and move around." She stood, balancing on one foot. "I was hours in the air, remember? I need to stretch. I'll be right back."

Her crutches squeaked along the hardwoods and echoed through the quiet house. In the kitchen she found exactly what she needed. She quickly downed two pills, catching her reflection in the door of the microwave oven. Again, the guilt in her eyes was plain.

 _What have you done?_

 _Boy are you your mother's daughter._

 _And you thought things were complicated before._

The large cardboard box that held the surprise contents of the UPS delivery sat on the counter. She ran her hand across the sample campaign yard sign, his name emboldened in bright white against a sea of red and blue.

LES MEREDITH

FOR UNITED STATES SENATE

Her reaction to his announcement could be summed up with one word: actress. She feigned excitement and repeatedly congratulated his courage. His secret desire to run for public office hadn't really been a secret, at least not in her mind. He loved to talk politics, had double majored in history and political science as an undergrad and since the last election had become increasingly vocal about the current administration.

The moment she'd opened the box, she knew.

It was the sign she'd been waiting for - ironically in the form of an actual sign. Of course now she'd gone and done the stupid and unthinkable, giving herself to Les in the most intimate way possible. But as Helen so honestly pointed out, it gave her the definitive answer she needed to a very serious and heartbreaking question.

She tucked a small bottled water under her arm and continued out onto the patio, hoping the air would clear her head a bit. The night sky overhead was starless and she took it as another sign. As much as she wanted it to work, building a life with him was no longer an option. Yes, they had a history and she did love him but not the way he needed to be loved. Not the way he deserved to be. And trading her relatively quiet life to become the wife of a senator? She'd absolutely no desire.

She sat down on a chaise near the pool. The water was still and she thought about Joss and his sweet little face, splashing happily and entertaining them all. It made her heart hurt. She twisted her engagement ring around her finger. Again she stared up at the sky, remembering every detail of her time with Sam. The days on the beach. Watching him cook dinner. Falling asleep in Joss's bed. The feel of his hand as he led her through the crowded streets. The brush of his lips against hers for the first time in twenty plus years. Their honest declarations in front of a setting Mediterranean sun. Her thoughts jumped from scene to scene, each memory confirming what she had to do.

She had to tell Les the truth.

Unfortunately, Karma beat her to it.

"So much for _I'll be right back_ ," he said firmly.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I just needed to cool off for a minute." She hadn't heard him slip up behind her.

"I think you and I both know it's more than that. A lot more."

He held out her cell phone but said nothing. Of course, he didn't have to - his face it all. She took the phone and studied the text notification on the lock screen stamped two minutes earlier - just a number with a Boston area code and a short, telling message.

 _God I miss you._

His eyes trapped her and there was no running away. For several moments she said nothing. Of course she didn't have to - her face said it all.

 **Don't pretend for one second that you're sad for Les. You know _exactly_ how you want this to go.**


	20. Chapter 20

Sam stared up at the living room ceiling for a long time. It was still dark outside and the house was eerily quiet. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been totally alone. He thought about Coach and how his death had in a sense given him life again. He had the chance to start over with Diane. Silently he offered several prayers...for the safety of his son, for Gwen's safe return from New York in a few days, and for the stressful days ahead in Diane's life.

They talked into the wee hours. After carrying on with cryptic texts for several days, he'd had enough. God it was glorious to hear her voice again. He'd tried his best to be the understanding, empathetic partner she needed. She was hurting and it killed him that he couldn't fix it. He let her cry, off and on during their two hour conversation. She told him everything - that she'd held nothing back from Les, sharing every detail of her time in Greece. Like most men, he repaid her honesty with a shouting match and a hasty departure in the middle of the night. As much as he wanted to fly to Ithaca, take the reins, and end her suffering, he knew he had to summon enormous patience and restraint. And control his jealousy. This was not his fight.

Diane asked for a few days to get her affairs in order. Though she and Les were not man and wife, they retained a number of joint assets - their primary residence, cars, their vacation home, artwork, and the like. It wasn't as though she could just walk away at a moment's notice. Yet, that's exactly what he wanted her to do. As his mind rolled through several scenarios he was struck with a sudden idea. Though he knew he'd wake her he called anyway, eager to hear her voice again.

"You're a terrible person," she answered after several rings, her words slurred by sleep.

"Morning, sunshine."

"I literally just fell asleep."

"Did Les ever come back?"

"No, he stayed the night at his office. He finally responded to my texts about four. I was worried because he'd had several glasses of wine before he left, but he's okay."

"Did you discuss any business matters?" Sam asked.

"No," she replied softly.

"Listen, I've been lying here thinking about everything and, well, you know I could call Lloyd. He can handle everything for you. You wouldn't even have to stay there."

"Sam, I told you last night that I have to do this my way."

"Yes, I know but Lloyd -"

"Is wonderful and would do a great job, but please, let me close this chapter of my life in my own way, in my own time," she said with a firm tone.

"I'm not a very patient person, Diane. It's not my nature."

"Tell me about it," she joked.

"And here's some more bad news. I'm afraid I've raised one just like me," he chuckled.

"What are you talking about?"

"Joss. He called me earlier."

"He did? Is everything alright?" she asked with deep concern.

"He moaned and complained about going away with his mom."

"Is it Carlo?"

"No. Actually, he's worried that I'm here all alone, now that Coach is gone."

"Oh Sam," she paused, touched by the sweetness of his son. "That little boy loves you so much."

"Not just me. He asked if you would be here when he got home. "

"What did you tell him?"

"The truth." Sam turned his eyes up to the new painting hanging quietly above the fireplace. He smiled at the hauntingly beautiful image of Diane that Semenko had so brilliantly captured. "That I would do everything in my power to make it happen."

"I just need some time," she reiterated.

Sam's heart beat fast, as he prepared to lay everything on the line.

"I swore I wouldn't do this over the phone. I should have told you before I left Greece but I screwed everything up and well, that's another story. I don't want to wait. I can't wait another minute to start us. I waited twenty years to find another love like ours. I never found it. And I was never going to find because I was never going to find another you. I need you to know, with complete certainty, how committed I am to you. I want you..." He swallowed hard, thinking back on all the years they'd lost. "I want you to come to Boston. Be my wife. Let me love you the way I should have all those years ago - the way I have in my mind all the years since. Come home, Diane...where you belong."

#

Dressed in gym shorts and a t-shirt, he walked with bare feet through the living room to the kitchen. He dropped his loafers on the kitchen floor and tossed a bag of wrinkled clothes on the island before making a beeline to the coffee machine.

"You're home?" she said with surprise.

Still in pajamas, she balanced on her crutches and gave him the once over with swollen, puffy eyes. It was obvious that his night had been as sleepless as her own.

"I showered at the gym but didn't have any shoes other than those." He pointed down at his loafers. "I just came back for some fresh clothes and my laptop. And my charger." He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and tossed it on the counter. "My phone's dead. Oh and I need to get my racquet. Do you know if it's still in the trunk of your car?"

His tone was cold and quiet and he avoided making eye contact. His body language was that of a wounded man, shoulders slumped and head down.

"Your racquet?" she questioned, confused.

"I'm playing tennis with Jules later. In fact, I'll be staying in his guest house for the time being."

Jules Stark was one of Les's closest friends. He was also Senior Counsel of Cornell's legal team.

"Don't read anything into it," he continued. "I told him that I needed a place to stay and he offered me their guest house, no questions asked. Well, there was one caveat - the tennis game."

 _"I bet you were an excellent student. Top of your class," she flirted._

 _He laughed as he strummed his guitar. "Me? The only thing I excelled at was getting in trouble. I barely squeaked by."_

 _"Oh, I don't believe that for a second." Diane shook her head._

 _"It's the one-hundred percent painful truth. Ask my father. He'll tell you. And he knows. Believe me, he knows because he was the one footing the bill. He was none too pleased when he found out his hard earned public school teacher dollars garnered only D's in both Chemistry and Tennis."_

 _"But you're Phi Beta Kappa."_

 _"Probably a technical glitch by the university," he teased. "And you can order those certificates anywhere online these days."_

 _His self-deprecating humor was one of the most attractive things about him, along with his broad, athletic build and his talent with an assortment of musical instruments. Les looked down at his fingers as she watched. He hummed as he played, continually surprising her with his talents. He made her smile. Made her laugh. Made her feel something she'd hadn't in a very long time._

 _As the last notes of his song faded away, their eyes locked. One minute they were playful and the next, he was taking her breath away with a look that made her weak. The room fell silent and he leaned across to her. Their faces were just inches apart and for a second, Diane wished she could stop time. He kissed her, only this time it wasn't the soft and gentle kiss they shared the first time. This kiss was laced with longing. The type that would begin inside his small but elegant living room but only to hold them until they could disappear into the dark of the night._

 _He pulled away and smiled, finding that she was doing the same. Her lipstick dotted his lips and she reached to wipe it away. When she did he kissed her fingertips, his eyes retaining a dangerous look._

 _"I can't speak for you backhand, Mr. Meredith, but you just earned an A in Chemistry," she said with a wink._

The scene blanketed her mind and pierced her heart. They had been happy - genuinely happy. She had loved him. Once. Back in those early days filled with discovery and passion, secrets and inside jokes. Now he stood before her, their relationship in post-apocalypse mode. His face said it all. Defeat. The wound was deep and fresh and would be for a while.

"Do you want to talk?" she asked. "I can make some coffee and -"

"What else is there to say?" he shot back.

"I don't know. Everything. Nothing. The house. The cars."

"I can speak with Jules about it tonight. Or you can call Jules and talk to him about it, whatever you prefer. I have no intention in making this difficult."

"Because I've made it difficult enough already." She sighed a guilty sigh.

"I assume you're going back to Boston."

"I haven't made any definite plans. My goal is to get through today."

"In case you're wondering, I don't want the house," he stated. "You can buy me out or we can sell outright."

"I'm fine with selling, if that's what you want."

"I'll give Ellen Richardson a call. I bet she can have it listed by the end of the week."

"There's no rush, Les. Really, I just want us to -"

"Why? Because you don't need the money? Because Sam Malone is some big time baseball star? Of course! Why would you need any of this?" he hollered.

"Les, please don't do this. I want to talk to you but not like this."

Diane spoke in the calmest voice she could muster. Replaying last night's scene was the last thing she wanted.

 _Do not engage your tongue or your temper._

 _He's hurting. Let him get it out._

 _Stay focused. It will all be over soon._

Les turned away from her and leaned against the counter for support. The need to go to him, to hold and comfort him, was strong, pulling at her very core. But any sort of physical exchange would be too much...for both of them. She knew keeping her distance was in their best interest.

"You talk to Jules, I'll call Ellen." She broke the painful silence.

A heavy sigh now escaped him as he turned back to face her. "I can't compete with the likes of Sam Malone - not on any level."

"It was never a contest," she insisted.

His gaze returned to the floor and Diane felt the knot in her stomach tighten to a rock solid mass of sadness and regret.

"It was _always_ a contest." He locked back on her.

She studied his eyes but the pain behind them was too great and it forced her to look away. She swallowed hard, remembering the exchange she and Sam shared on the beach.

 _There are only two types of people in the world. Those who take opportunities and those who wish they did._

"The only way you can lose something is if you possess it first. And I know now you've only been on loan," he stated.

Tears came to both of them. He crossed the room to her and she fell against him. He held her for what she knew was probably the last time.

"Diane," he pulled back after several moments and looked into her her eyes, seeing someone else reflected in their glassy hue. "Do you really love him?"

"He's my whole world," she confessed in a whisper.

#

Heart pounding and hands sweating, Diane took a deep breath before placing the call.

"Hi darling," Helen answered softly.

Just two words, that's all she spoke. Two little word filled with love and understanding. It was exactly what Diane needed - a tiny light to guide her through the dark tunnel on her current course. She couldn't even respond to her mother's greeting with words, only tears. She eventually pulled herself together and the two women talked for over an hour. Diane shared every detail of the fight with Les and her desire to start over with Sam. The more she spoke her feelings for him aloud, the stronger and more certain she became.

"How's Joss?" Helen asked.

"Worried about Sam. He didn't even want to go on his cruise because Sam was going to be alone without Coach."

"He sounds like an absolute angel."

"I can't wait for you to meet him. You're going to take one look at his green eyes and his thick eyelashes and you'll be done."

"And the questions about his mother's boyfriend? The drug use?"

"Turns out Carlo is a severe asthmatic. He uses a dry powder inhaler. Sam saw him use it several times while he was there."

"Well that's good news."

"Mother, I slept with Les," she blurted out, changing the subject.

"I see." Helen drew a deep breath.

"I told myself not to let it happen, but it happened."

"You don't have to share the particulars of your private life with me, darling, because I -"

"You were right," she interrupted. "It answered the most important question of my adult life. I've only ever loved one man."

"Does Sam know?"

"That I slept with Les? No, I haven't told him yet."

"Don't," Helen cautioned firmly after a long pause.

"I have to tell him. You told Father. You said you were honest and that it was never mentioned it again."

"I said we never mentioned it. I didn't say it was forgotten. Your father didn't have to mention it. It was always there, trust me. Your father had an incredible capacity to forgive. Forgetting, however, is a completely different subject."

"My dishonesty cost me my marriage the first time around. I can't keep this, or anything, from him."

"How would you feel if Sam told you that he and Silvia slept together when he was in Italy? I mean, she is the mother of his child. And you two aren't legally bound yet."

Helen's comment silenced her.

"You know something, Mother? You don't play fair," Diane finally replied.

"I know." The older woman sighed. "I play smart."

 **Mother knows best...and she'd tell you it's time to leave a comment or two. Thanks so much for reading!**


	21. Chapter 21

" _We didn't sleep together," Diane confessed._

 _"And that's supposed to make me feel better?" he shot back._

 _"What do you want me to say, Les?" she asked through tears._

 _"Why can't you just be honest with yourself, Diane? The real reason you went to Greece had nothing to do with scattering the remains of old friend."_

 _"I'm not going to admit something that's simply not true."_

 _"So you're going to end us on a lie?" He raised his voice._

The last box was loaded onto the moving truck. She made one final walk through of the home they'd shared, just to be sure. Still in an air cast, she moved with much greater speed and thankfully without crutches. Empty nails remained in walls that were now blank, devoid of art and photographs. The house echoed with the absence of rugs and window treatments to buffer sound. She paused a moment in the doorway of the study. At one time, it had housed both of their desks. They'd spent many nights working side by side on collegiate business, listening to jazz greats on his vintage Victrola. She studied the divots in the carpet where two oversized wingback chairs once stood. A knot formed in her stomach, thinking back on a conversation that had taken place in those same chairs years before...

 _"Coffee?" she asked, cup already in hand._

 _"Absolutely." He quickly folded the newspaper and dropped it on the floor._

 _"What are you doing up so early?" she inquired, taking the chair beside him. "You always sleep in on Sundays."_

 _"I couldn't sleep," he said with a smile. "Just too excited, I guess."_

 _"Are you really excited? You can tell me the truth."_

 _"You're kidding, right?" he asked, still smiling._

 _"Well..." Now she was grinning. "I just want to make sure."_

 _"I danced you right out of the restaurant last night, didn't I?"_

 _"That could have been an act," she countered teasingly. "You know, trying to spare my feelings in public."_

 _"Diane..." He moved from his chair and knelt on the floor in front of her. "You've got to know that I've wanted this since day one."_

 _"But we've never even discussed it. You've never mentioned it. And it's not exactly like I'm a spring chicken."_

 _"I never mentioned it because I didn't want it to be an issue with us the way it had been before, you know, with him." He hinted at her divorce._

 _"I'm going to be the oldest mom at high school graduation," she informed him with an eye roll. "Probably in a wheelchair by the time college graduation rolls around."_

 _"Who cares? You'll be the most beautiful. And the smartest." His hand disappeared under the hem of her robe and he massaged her leg gently. "And the sexiest."_

 _"Are you really happy?" She leaned forward, resting her head against his._

 _"I'm way past happy. I'm ecstatic. Euphoric. Over the moon." He rubbed his nose against hers. "I can't wait to hold our daughter."_

" _What makes you so sure it will be a girl?" she bit back a grin._

" _Because I've always wanted a girl...and I always get what I want."_

 _"_ Uh, ma'am?" A man cleared his throat, breaking her reflective silence. "I think that's everything."

"I think it is." She turned and offered an approving nod.

"If I can just get you to sign here then we'll be on our way." He held out an electronic pad.

"Of course," she replied. "Long drive ahead, huh?"

"If the weather and road conditions are good, we might make it into Boston ahead of schedule," he confirmed.

"You and your crew have done a fantastic job. I really appreciate it."

She signed the obligatory documents and locked up for the last time. Secretly she wondered if Les would make an appearance, just to double check that all was in order. He'd moved his things to a small house not far from campus a couple of weeks before. It had all been very civil in the days since they'd put the house on the market. And surprisingly, they found a buyer in just three short days. They even put in an offer on Diane's car, which she sold to them as well. All that was left to do was sign the closing papers and turn over the keys. She checked her watch and saw that she was right on time for their four-thirty appointment. And so was her Lyft driver, now waiting patiently in the driveway. She shielded the late afternoon sun from her eyes and turned for one final look. It was a gorgeous estate. More than they ever needed for just the two of them. They'd fallen in love with the grounds and the classic architecture of the 1920s beauty and thoroughly enjoyed every square inch. Though she couldn't wait to return to her beloved Beantown, she couldn't deny the pang of sorrow building inside. Without a word she climbed in the backseat of the car, brushing tears away as the house disappeared behind her.

The drive to the title company didn't take long. She spied Les's car parked right by the entrance and she stopped breathing for a moment. They hadn't seen one another or even talked for the better part of a week. This would, most likely, be the last time she saw ever him. Sam was waiting for her and she'd be on the road as soon as the paperwork was complete. The agent reassured her that the transaction wouldn't take long. In a few short hours, she'd be back in the arms of the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

"Right this way, Ms. Chambers." A receptionist showed her to a conference room where she found all required parties assembled. Les stood immediately upon her entering the room, the look on his face both happy and sad.

"Am I late?" Diane asked, nervously consulting her watch once more.

"No, you're right on time," the agent announced. "Please, have a seat."

She sat down on the empty chair next to Les. He smiled and offered a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

"You're fine." He whispered in her ear. "We just sat down sixty-seconds ago."

"Well, I know that everyone's time is valuable, so let's get started." The agent took his place at the head of the long table.

She sat for over half an hour, listening as the agent narrated the various documents and signing her name dozens of times. Very little was said, all parties quietly autographing stacks of papers. When the final page was complete, she and Les stood and exchanged handshakes with the new owners - an excited, young couple in their early thirties, parents to two young children.

"Now, if we can just get the keys..." the agent said with a smile. "I think we're all done."

Diane wrestled with the jump ring on her keychain. Les watched her struggle for a moment then reached and took it from her, his hand lingering against hers a little longer than necessary.

"Here you are." Les freed the key and pushed it across the table along with his own. "We hope you have many happy years there."

"It's a great house," Diane quickly added, forcing down the lump in her throat. "Your children are going to love growing up there."

Outside, the same driver sat waiting. She felt her heart beating wildly. This was it. Their final goodbye. In a parking lot. At a title company. On a nondescript Thursday afternoon. She'd tried to formulate a picture of it in her mind all day - and every attempt, unsuccessful.

"That went well," he remarked.

"The Gentry's seem like a nice young couple," Diane added.

"Yes they do." He agreed.

And that's where it stopped. Three sentences and they were out of small talk. For a minute they just stood there, staring into each other's eyes. They'd done it all in the days since her return from Greece - everything from shouting and crying to quietly discussing what the future held. He still wanted her, that much he'd made very clear. Standing here with him, she felt the tears coming. Saying goodbye to love was never easy.

"Any problem with the movers?" he asked.

"No." She shook her head. "They rolled out when I did."

"Are you leaving for Boston right now?"

"I'll be in Manhattan through the weekend, then onto Boston on Sunday."

"I see." He looked down at the ground for a moment, pushing a pebble with the toe of his loafer. "Well, I guess you better not keep your driver waiting."

"I don't know how to make this better." She waited for his eyes. "I've thought about this moment for a long time, how to say goodbye the right way..."

"There is no right way." He looked up at her again. "I think it's one of those things that no matter how many times you may do it in your life, it never gets better. Or easier."

A tear slid down her cheek.

Gently he wiped it away.

He wrapped his arms around her and held her one last time. She knew there was nothing more to say.

"I know there's no use in begging. No argument to convince you to stay."

"Begging never suits university presidents," she said through her tears.

"It's funny, you know. On the day we met, I was putting you in a car. And now here we are again," he whispered, now tears in his own eyes.

"My father always said the highest compliment you can give a man is to tell him he's a good man. And you're a good man, Les. One of the best. Please know that if you ever need anything -"

"I'm not that good. In fact, I'm pretty awful." He reached and took her hand, pressing a small flash drive into it.

"What's this?" Diane scanned his eyes, confused.

"Proof that I'm not a good man."

"I don't understand." She shook her head.

"I ordered flowers to be sent to your hotel in Rhodes. I got an email that the flowers were never delivered because you weren't a registered guest. I called the hotel several times to see if you'd checked in, but -"

"Oh God, Les, I just -"

He raised his hand and cut her off. "Please, let me finish. This is about _my_ confession, not yours. I'd been in the hotel bar and was pretty sloppy when I read the email from the florist. I was furious. And drunk. And that's a lethal combination. I did a little internet research and found a guy in Rhodes. I paid him twelve hundred dollars to follow you and Sam."

All the color drained from Diane's face as she listened to his unbelievable tale.

"These are the photos he took. I haven't looked at them - not a single one, I swear. I downloaded them to the flash drive then deleted the file and emails from my computer. You have the only copy. Only you will know what's in that file. I invaded your privacy and I hate myself for it. I am truly, truly sorry."

"I-I don't know what to say." She looked up at him with bewildered eyes.

"Say you forgive me or say you hate me...just promise me you'll have a happy life."

#

Traffic was horrible. She called him a block from the George Washington bridge, giving a status report so he could push back their dinner reservation. He'd wanted to drive up to Tompkins County himself, saving her a lonely trip into the city. But she declined, needing to say her goodbyes alone. Hearing his voice was not enough. She wanted to touch him. Feel his arms around her. For weeks they hadn't seen each other, at her own request. She'd asked for time away - to sort out her personal and professional life. He understood and agreed, promising not to push too hard. And while they'd talked and emailed constantly, it wasn't the same.

She'd thought a lot about their last night together, lying in his arms and listening to the surf. She remembered their night on the beach, talking and kissing and holding one another like two young kids. It was the sole image that sustained her during the difficult days with Les. They laid it all out, withholding nothing. She loved him. She'd always loved him, even when she pretended otherwise. And he still loved her, despite the pain in their past. They knew they'd been given a precious gift - the chance to have it all once more.

He hadn't told her where'd they be staying exactly. Just an address on Fifth Avenue. She'd promised repeatedly not to Google it and as it turned out, between the packing of her university office and her home, she hadn't found time...though she had a pretty good idea.

"I'm here," she called his cell as the cab pulled to a stop in front of the hotel where they stayed the night he proposed.

"I know." He grinned as he walked through the enormous brass revolving door toward her.

His smile said it all and she couldn't get out of the cab fast enough. He returned his phone to his pocket and opened her door, pulling her into his arms. They stood, locked in a tight embrace, as the busy city dissolved around them.

"Are you surprised?" he asked, eyes shining.

"That you'd want to recreate the night you proposed? Not one bit."

"I'd kiss you right now but I don't think I'll be able to stop." He rested his forehead against hers.

"What the hell, let's risk it," she encouraged.

She pressed her lips against his and instantly felt the charge. She hadn't tasted his kiss since the morning of his departure from the villa - and she'd thought of little else during their weeks apart.

He released his grip and looked into her eyes. There was a tinge of something behind them. The emotions of her day were clear.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"It's been a long day," she confirmed.

He hugged her once more, ready to take it all away. "I know it has been, but all you have to do now is let me take care of you."

"How's our little man?" she asked.

"He and Gwen have had a big day - the aquarium _and_ the science museum. She trying to keep him occupied because he was none to pleased that he was not invited on this trip," he said with a smile.

"Let's call him when we get upstairs."

"He'd love nothing more."

He grabbed her bags from the trunk and paid the Lyft driver. Inside the elevator he backed her up against the mirrored wall.

"God, I've missed you." His lips brushed against her ear.

"Not as much as I've missed you." Her arms snaked around his waist.

They almost missed their floor. Sam quickly searched his pockets for the key and in seconds they were locked behind the privacy of the door. He had both wine and champagne waiting for her, though all she really wanted was to curl up beside him. She turned to him, stomach full of beautiful butterflies. Their first time alone together since he'd left Greece, she just wanted to look at him.

"Tell me this is real." She smiled up at him. "Tell me that I'm really standing here with you after all this time."

"Like I said..." He grinned. "You always steal my best lines."

"I just want to look at you." Her fingers traced his jawline.

"Well, I hope that's not _all_ you want to do." His eyes sparkled.

"Do you know that I've imagined this moment all day?" She brushed his hair back.

"I've imagined this moment since the late nineties," he whispered, moments before their lips touched.

It had been years since he'd kissed her that way in the very same hotel. As strong and handsome as he was then, and as much as she loved him, she knew that what they'd found now was even more precious.

"I really do love you, Diane Chambers."

"And I really do love you, Sam Malone."

"What would you say to Room Service instead of dinner out?" he suggested.

"I thought you'd never ask."

"I think a small celebration is in order first. May I?" He eyed the champagne.

"So that's your plan? Get me all liquored up?"

"Whatever it takes," he joked.

"It takes very little, I promise," she reassured him.

He filled a flute for her and popped a top on a soda for himself. Seconds later they were snuggled up together on the large sectional in the living area.

"Flutes and everything. I'm impressed."

"What can I say? You've soothed the magnificent pagan beast."

"Not too much, I hope," she teased.

"You have no idea, do you?"

"About what?" she asked.

"This suite."

"What about it?"

"This is it. _The_ suite. The one where we, you know, for the first time after we got engaged."

"Oh Sam, this is not the same suite. Ours wasn't this big. There's no way you could have afforded anything this grand way back when."

"No, no, I'm telling you - it was _this_ suite. I had the manager look it up. They had to go back into the paper archives. Only it two rooms then. They did a complete renovation about ten years ago."

"So this is it?" She looked around, taken by the beautiful furnishings.

"We made our engagement official right here. I thought this was the most beautiful hotel in the whole city and I wanted everything to be perfect."

He took the glass from her hand and placed it on the coffee table. His lips moved along her neck and her body responded immediately. She pulled his shirt free, her hands now alive and drawing circles across his back. She felt herself rushing, wanting to be closer to him. It wasn't until he reminded her that they had all night that she took a deep breath and slowed down.

"I just want to kiss you for a while, but not here." He took her hand and lead her into the bedroom. The lamp beside the bed threw warm light around them and he studied every part of her. All the self-conscious thoughts she'd experienced before vanished as his fingers gently traced various lines along her body.

"This body has only gotten better with age. Do you know that I've dreamed about this exact freckle?" He kissed a small, ginger-colored dot on her shoulder.

"What about the other ones?" she questioned with a soft smile.

"All in good time." He made a trail of kisses across her chest.

"Sam, wait," she cautioned.

"Hmm?" He continued to explore.

"There's something I feel I must tell you." She pushed him away, her eyes serious.

"How did I know?" He sighed heavily, bracing himself for a classic Diane monologue.

"It's about me and Les...and you might not like it," she added.

"Diane, whatever happened between you and Les these last couple of weeks is between the two of you. I don't care about your past. I've signed up for everything that happens from this point on."

She took a deep breath, her mind replaying certain conversation with her mother.

 _Well, Mother, looks like I get a free pass. Here's to playing it smart._

"Can we talk about the necklace then?"

"What necklace?"

"The diamond necklace? The one that launched our fight in Greece."

"Let me guess. You stole it and you're running from the cops?" He tried to make her smile.

"Actually, Les gave it to me after my miscarriage."

"Oh." Sam nodded, noting the seriousness in her eyes.

"I don't know why I didn't just tell you the truth. You made a comment about the diamond, having no idea the real meaning behind it and I snapped. I guess the thought of you leaving with Joss and me going back to New York to end it with him, well, that whole morning was a train wreck. I was an emotional train wreck."

"How are you feeling now?" He pulled her back into his arms.

"Like a girl in my twenties. Like I just stepped into a fairytale that I never want to end."

"You'll always be young to me, Diane." He pressed his lips against her neck once more.

"Wait, Sam. There's one more thing."

A frustrated huff escaped his lips. "Do I look like a Catholic priest or something? What's with all the confessions?"

"It's not a confession. It's a gift - for you."

Diane backed off the bed and rummaged through her carry-on bag. A minute later she returned, a small wrapped box in hand and a satisfied look on her face.

"This box contains something of great importance to you. For reasons that I may never fully comprehend, Fate has somehow deemed me worthy to return it to you, it's true and rightful owner."

With a smile she placed the gift on the bed between them.

"What is it?" Sam eyed the box.

"Open it and see."

With a wary look in her direction, Sam pulled the ribbon and wrapping from the box. Inside, under layers of tissue, he found something he never dreamed he'd see again in his entire life.

"Oh my God." His eyes began to tear. "Diane, is this what I think it is?

"It is." Her smile widened.

"But how? There's no way. This was lost years ago."

"Remember a few night ago when I met some of my university colleague for drinks?"

"Of course. It was your bon voyage, girls night, send off. You told me all about it."

"Well, I didn't tell you everything. There was a very, shall we say, _gregarious_ group of gentlemen in the bar. I couldn't help but overhear their conversation. Actually, the entire bar was forced to listen to their whoops and hollers, that is until the manager moved them to a more private space. Before they were relocated, I overheard an interesting portion of their conversation. A gentleman was bragging about being in possession of that." She pointed to the item in Sam's hand. "And I use the term gentlemen _very_ loosely."

"Wait? You saw Rick?" Sam asked, dumbfounded.

"In the flesh. And let me say he didn't paint Mayday Malone in a very flattering light. He was bragging to everyone within earshot that it was never a good luck charm until it fell into his hands. Well, of course I was fuming. So I did what any red-blooded American woman in my position would do in that instance."

"Oh God, I'm almost afraid to ask." He sighed.

"I cozied up to him, let him buy me a few drinks, flirted my ass off, then played to his extremely overblown ego and won it back for you in a game of pool," she announced proudly.

"You didn't."

"I did, much to his bruised psyche."

"And Rick didn't recognize you or anything?" he inquired.

"The man had been painfully overserved. He wouldn't have recognized his own mother."

Sam turned the metal bottle cap over in his hand. Years before he'd loaned it to a pitching buddy who'd been in a slump - his good luck charm. It worked too. His friend turned his pitching game around and made a run at the post-season. What few knew at the time, including his friend Rick, was that the bottle cap held deeper significance. It was popped from the top of the last beer Sam had ever consumed. It was more than some random good luck charm. It was the physical reminder of his daily fight for sobriety.

"I can't believe it. I just can't believe it," he said with a shake of his head. "You've given me some pretty amazing gifts in years past, but this...this tops them all."

"You say that now..."

Her fingers went to work on the buttons of his shirt. Arms around his neck, she kissed him again, willing herself to take his advice and slow down. Their love story was alive with a passion and respect that only time and experience could provide. She'd come home...and she knew she'd never make it through another day without him.

"Hey, can I tell _you_ a secret?" he whispered as he pulled back.

"Absolutely."

"In the twenty years we've been apart, I never made love to another woman..." He locked on her with honest eyes. "It was always you."

 **Admit it. You love this chapter.**


	22. Chapter 22

**_Ten years later_**

"Oh my god, Joss! You know Tiger Woods?"

"I don't know him. We met him at a golf tournament. I was about four when that was taken."

"Where was this one taken?" she asked.

"That's me, my dad, and Coach fishing down in Playa Del Carmen. He died when I was six."

"Look at the fish you caught!" she squealed. "It's bigger than you are."

"Coach caught that. He was a great fisherman. My dad, on the other hand...I think the only thing he caught that trip was a cold."

"When was this?" She pointed to another photograph. "And who are all these people?"

"That was last year, on my sixteenth birthday." He took the frame in his hand and named each face. "That's my dad, my step mom, my mom, my mom's husband Carlo, Gwen, Gwen's daughter, her son-in law, two of her grandkids, and my mom's mom, Helen. We meet up in Greece every summer for my birthday. It's sort of a tradition."

"Where haven't you been?" she asked flirtatiously.

"Antarctica." He shrugged his shoulders.

"Wait. I thought your dad's name is Sam."

"It is."

"Well, you just said that you mom's husband is Carlo."

"It is."

"I'm confused."

"Carlo is married to my mom, Silvia," he informed her.

"I just met you mom. Her name is Diane."

"Right."

"So who is your step-mom?"

"Technically Diane is my step-mom. But she's been married to my dad since I was little, so I call her Mom."

"And what does your real mom think of that?"

"Nothing. I never called her mom. She's always been Silvia."

"So hold on...you call your stepmom Mom and your real mom Silvia?"

"Kind of complicated, huh?" he asked.

"As long as you can keep track of it."

"Silvia gave birth to me but Diane is my real mom." He focused on Diane's image before returning the photograph to its place on the piano.

"Is this their wedding? Oh my god, look at you in your little tuxedo! Were you the ring bearer?"

"Best man," he corrected.

"Your dad is gorgeous. And your mom, wow, she's stunning. She looks amazing. They're a really gorgeous couple."

"Everybody says that." He smiled at the picture. "It's their second marriage."

"Yeah, you explained the whole Silvia thing."

"No, I mean it's _their_ second marriage. To each other."

"What?" her eyes widened.

"They got married years ago but divorced after a few years. Then my dad married Silvia, had me, then they got divorced. Then, when Coach died years later, my dad and Diane met up again at his funeral. They hadn't seen each other for twenty years. Well, Coach wrote all these letters to them right after he found out he was dying of cancer. He asked that they take his ashes back to Greece where they sailed for years. It was like his dying wish to get them back together. And his wish came true. They fell back in love and here we are."

"That's totally the most romantic story I've ever heard. How did he know they'd get back together?"

"I don't know...he just did. He wrote one final letter to the two of them that they didn't even know about. He left it with his attorney and he presented it to them at their wedding. Everyone at the reception was bawling. I had no idea what was going on. "

"Your life is literally like a movie on the Hallmark Channel."

"And it gets even better." He crossed the room to the large bookcase behind the desk. "My mom wrote the whole thing into a novel and now it's number one on the New York Times best-seller list. _Twists of Fate_. Ever heard of it?"

"No way! My mom's reading that book right now." She took the book from him and studied the cover. "But this says Jessica Beauvais, not Diane Malone."

"That's just her pen name. It's part of a series she wrote a long time ago, when she and my dad were divorced. She wanted to use the same name. The main characters are Philip and Phoebe Twist. They divorce and get back together the same way my parents did, hence the title _Twists of Fate_. Get it? Only it's a mystery too. They're spied on, and this one guy, this Senator, has all these secret photos of them. And check this out..." He opened the cover. "It's dedicated to me and my dad."

 _"For Sam and Little Man - for making me real_ ," she read aloud. "What does that mean?"

"It's kind of a long story. You've read _The Velveteen Rabbit_ , right?"

"The what rabbit?" she asked.

"Never mind." He shook his head.

"Found 'em..." Sam called to him as he and Diane entered the living room. "They must have fallen out of my pocket when I changed earlier." He held out his car keys to his son.

"Thanks, Dad."

"There's a gas can in the trunk. You can grab a couple of gallons on the way home and then you'll be all set tomorrow. Just be careful."

"Right." he muttered, shooting his father a look of warning.

"Dinner was wonderful, Mrs. Malone," the girl offered. "Thanks so much for having me."

"It was our pleasure." Diane smiled. "We'd love to have you back anytime."

"I've got my cell phone if you need me," Joss announced. "We'll be at The Regency Cinema."

"Have a good time," she added as they walked to the front door.

"Eleven o'clock, Joss." Sam was firm and the boy looked to Diane for support.

"Honey, the movie isn't over until almost eleven. Then he has to drive Hailey back home...and they'll probably want to stop for ice cream or something." She offered her best assist.

"Okay, make it midnight. But don't speed to get home. If you're gonna be late, just call," Sam directed in a fatherly tone.

"Yes sir," Joss answered.

"And no smoking pot. Or crack. Or drinking alcohol of any kind."

"Yes, Father." Joss gave a small salute.

"Hailey, make him spring for the extra large popcorn," Sam added with a wink.

"Honey, they're going to be late," Diane cautioned.

"G'night, Mom." Joss hugged her warmly. "I love you...and I owe you," he whispered.

"G'night, Sweetheart. Please drive safely."

Diane closed the door behind them then shook an admonishing finger at him.

"What did I do?" Sam asked innocently.

"You never pass up a chance to embarrass him, do you?"

"I'm not embarrassing him. I'm building character. If I'd have wanted to embarrass him, I would have told them to keep their clothes on or offered him a condom."

"He didn't want Hailey to know that he forgot to fill up his car. He told her it wouldn't start because the battery was dead."

"So he's lying to her already?" He grinned. "He must really like her."

"You were a sixteen year old boy once. Have a heart."

"You don't even want to know what I was doing at sixteen." He flashed a wicked smile.

"Oh Sam, you can't even remember back to sixteen."

"Well, maybe you should do something to help jog my memory." He pressed her up against the back of the front door. "You know, give me a little something to rock my gypsy soul."

"Such as?"

"I don't know. Maybe if you come a little closer it might help."

"How's this?" She wrapped her arms around him, their noses almost touching.

"Not great, but it's a start."

"Well what if I do this?" She kissed him softly several times, trying not to laugh.

He pulled back and looked into her eyes. "I did feel a little something that time, but we can do better."

He held her face in his hands and kissed her just as he had for years. The kiss he'd never shared with another woman. The one filled with deep, encompassing love that always left her wanting more.

"Well sports fans, looks like we have R.I.S.P," she announced.

"What are you talking about?"

"Rascal In Scoring Position. That's baseball talk for _Sam might get lucky tonight._ " She pinched his backside with a wink.

"God, there's nothing better than a woman using a baseball analogy for sex."

"Oh really?" She bit back a grin as she unbuckled his belt. "Just wait till football season."

 **THE END**

 **And thus we've reached the end of the ride. I sincerely hope my story scratched your Sam/Diane itch. Would love a parting comment or two and again, thanks so much for reading and supporting my work. Cheers!**


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